CHAPTER XII.
SILVIA’S TROUBLES.
Silvia Sanford did not spend her days of confinement in the ranger’s home in tears and sorrow. Far from it, though she felt anxious and uneasy about her father’s safety. She was perfectly contented in the society of the ranger, and his books when he was absent. Too, she had spent much of her time in wandering through the cavern, watching the falls and the beautiful trout that gamboled through the crystal waters.
It was on the morning following the night of Duval Dungarvon and Black Bear’s meeting, that the falls were parted a short time after sunrise, and a canoe, in which were the ranger and Silvia, and Echo, the eagle, shot out from under the falls and landed on the left bank of the stream.
The ranger took Silvia by the hand and assisted her on shore, and then led her up the steep, rocky cliff onto the summit of a high ridge overlooking the little valley below, and the distant hills.
He seated himself on a large rock and drew the maiden down by his side.
“Now, Miss Sanford,” he said, waving his hand away before him, “you can have a fair view of nature in her fresh morning robes.”
Silvia’s eyes took in the landscape before her.
“Oh, how grand and beautiful, Mr. Rainbolt!” she murmured, softly.
“I was just thinking, Silvia, that if we could always gaze upon the beauties of nature, and enjoy them together as we have this morning, what bliss would be ours.”