He mounted his own horse, and led hers, and so went his way down the stream to the fording place. He successfully accomplished the difficult task of taking both horses over the river to the opposite bank, where he turned them loose. Next with a strong pocket jack-knife he cut a leaping pole from a sapling near, and went still farther up the stream to the rapids, where, by a skilful use of his pole and dexterous leaping from rock to rock, he was enabled to recross the river almost dry-shod. He rejoined Sybil, whom he found just where he had left her. She was sitting on a piece of rock, with her head bowed upon her hands. "Have I been gone long? Were you anxious or lonely, dearest?" he inquired, as he gave her his hand to assist her in rising. "Oh, no! I take no note of time! But oh! Lyon, _when shall I wake?_" she exclaimed in wild despair. "What is it you say, dear Sybil?" he gently asked. "When shall I wake--wake from this ghastly nightmare, in which I seem to myself to be a fugitive from justice! an exile from my home! a houseless, hunted stranger in the land! It _is_ a nightmare! It can _not_ be real, you know! Oh, that I could wake!" "Dear Sybil, collect your faculties. Do not let despair drive you to distraction. Be mistress of yourself in this trying situation," said Lyon Berners, gravely. "But oh, Heaven! the crushing weight and stunning suddenness of this blow! It is like death! like perdition!" exclaimed Sybil, pressing her hands to her head. Lyon Berners could only gaze on her with infinite compassion, expressed in every lineament of his eloquent countenance. She observed this, and quickly, with a great effort, from a strong resolution, throwing her hands apart like one who disperses a cloud, and casts off a weight, she said: "It is over! I will not be nervous or hysterical again. I have brought trouble on you as well as on myself, dear Lyon; but I will show you that I can bear it. I will look this calamity firmly in the face, and come what may, I will not drag you down by sinking under it." And so saying, she gave him her hand, and arose and followed him as he pushed on before, breaking down or bearing aside the branches that overhung and obstructed the path. Half an hour of this difficult and tedious travelling brought them down into a deep dark dell, in the midst of which stood the "Haunted Chapel." It was an old colonial church, a monument of the earliest settlement in the valley. It was now a wild and beautiful ruin, with its surroundings all glowing with color and sparkling with light. In itself it was a small Gothic edifice, built of the dark iron-grey rock dug from the mountain quarries. Its walls, window-frames, and roof were all still standing, and were almost entirely covered by creepers, among which the wild rose vine, now full of scarlet berries, was conspicuous.