All appeared to be a strange dream. Oh, how he repented having disobeyed his father! and how he seemed to be as bad as the dreadful robbers in having done what he pleased, and followed his own will, instead of doing what was right! About an hour after, he heard some rustling, as if high up on the wall, and a voice whispered "Eric!" "Who is there?" asked Eric, and his little heart trembled. "Silence! quiet! it is Wolf. Here is a small window in your prison, and I have opened it outside; climb up, get out, and run for your life." Eric heard no more, but scrambled in the dark up the rough stones in the wall until he reached the window, where he looked out, and saw the stars and the woods. He soon forced his way through, and dropped down on the opposite side. Some one caught him in his arms. It was Wolf. "Here is your gold band, Eric. I got it from Ralph; for He who was speaking in the thunder has been saying things in my heart. You were kind to poor Wolf. Now escape! Fly! I shall close the window again. Ralph will never know how you got out, and he will not open the prison-door till after breakfast. So you have a long time. Run as long as you can along that road till you reach a hill, then cross it, until you reach a stream, which you must follow downwards. The worst of the storm is over, and the night will soon be calm. Off!" "Bless you, Wolf!" said Eric; "I shall never forget you." Poor Eric! how he ran, and ran, beneath the stars! He felt no fatigue for a time. He thought he heard the robbers after him; every time the wind blew loud, he imagined it was their wild cry. On he ran till he reached the hill, and crossed it, and came to a green spot beneath a rock, on the banks of the stream, when he could run no more, but fell down, and whether he fainted or fell asleep he could not tell.
CHAPTER III.
THE JOURNEY HOME—THE BIRD WITH THE GOLD EGGS—TRIALS AND DIFFICULTIES.
Eric knew not how long he slept, but, as in a dream, he heard a sweet voice singing these words:—
"Rest thee, boy, rest thee, boy, lonely and dreary,
Thy little heart breaking from losing the way;
Thy father has not left thee friendless, though weary,
When learning through suffering to fear and obey."
Eric opened his eyes, but moved not a limb, as if under some strange fascination. It was early morning. High over head a lark was "singing like an angel in the clouds." The mysterious voice went on in the same beautiful and soothing strain—
"Oh, sweet is the lark as she sings o'er her nest,
And warbles unseen in the clear morning light;
But sweeter by far is the song in the breast
When in life's early morning we do what is right!"
Eric could neither move nor speak; but in his heart he confessed with sorrow that he had done what was wrong. And again the voice sang—
"Now, darling, awaken, thou art not forsaken!
The old night is past and a new day begun;
Let thy journey with love to thy father be taken,
And at evening thy father will welcome thee home."