His heart misgave him as he
remembered his promise to Goisvintha, and contemplated the possibility
that it was some miserable slave, abandoned by the fugitives who had
quitted the suburbs in the morning, who now approached as a last
resource, to ask mercy and protection from his enemies in the camp. He
turned towards Goisvintha as the idea crossed his mind, and observed
that she was still occupied in meditation. Assured by the sight, that
she had not yet observed the fugitive figure, he again directed his
attention--with an excess of anxiety which he could hardly account for--
in the direction where he had first beheld it, but it was no more to be
seen. It had either retired to concealment, or was now still advancing
towards his tent through a clump of trees that clothed the descent of
the hill.
Silently and patiently he continued to look forth over the landscape;
and still no living thing was to be seen. At length, just as he began
to doubt whether his senses had not deceived him, the fugitive figure
suddenly appeared from the trees, hurried with wavering gait over the
patch of low, damp ground that still separated it from the young Goth,
gained his tent, and then with a feeble cry fell helplessly upon the
earth at his feet.
Pages:
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299