The traveller sank into a gloomy reverie. The wind howled--the rain beat--through the casement shone no solitary star--all was dark and sombre. Should he proceed alone--might he not suffer a greater danger upon that wide and desert moor--might not the host follow--assault him in the dark? He had no weapon save a stick. But within he had at least a rude resource in the large kitchen poker that was beside him. At all events it would be better to wait for the present. He might at any time, when alone, withdraw the bolt from the door, and slip out unobserved. Such was the fruit of his meditations while his host plied the fire. "You will sleep sound to-night," said his entertainer, smiling. "Humph! Why, I am /over/-fatigued; I dare say it will be an hour or two before I fall asleep; but when I once am asleep, I sleep like a rock!" "Come, Alice," said her father, "let us leave the gentleman. Goodnight, sir." "Good night--good night," returned the traveller, yawning. The father and daughter disappeared through a door in the corner of the room. The guest heard them ascend the creaking stairs--all was still. "Fool that I am," said the traveller to himself, "will nothing teach me that I am no longer a student at Gottingen, or cure me of these pedestrian adventures? Had it not been for that girl's big blue eyes, I should be safe at ------ by this time, if, indeed, the grim father had not murdered me by the road. However, we'll baulk him yet: another half-hour, and I am on the moor: we must give him time. And in the meanwhile here is the poker. At the worst it is but one to one; but the churl is strongly built." Although the traveller thus endeavoured to cheer his courage, his heart beat more loudly than its wont. He kept his eyes stationed on the door by which the cottagers had vanished, and his hand on the massive poker. While the stranger was thus employed below, Alice, instead of turning to her own narrow cell, went into her father's room. The cottager was seated at the foot of his bed muttering to himself, and with eyes fixed on the ground. The girl stood before him, gazing on his face, and with her arms lightly crossed above her bosom. "It must be worth twenty guineas," said the host, abruptly to himself. "What is it to you, father, what the gentleman's watch is worth?" The man started. "You mean," continued Alice, quietly, "you mean to do some injury to that young man; but you shall not." The cottager's face grew black as night. "How," he began in a loud voice, but suddenly dropped the tone into a deep growl--" how dare you talk to me so?--go to bed--go to bed." "No, father." "No?" "I will not stir from this room until daybreak." "We will soon see that," said the man, with an oath. "Touch me, and I will alarm the gentleman, and tell him that--" "What?" The girl approached her father, placed her lips to his ear, and whispered, "That you intend to murder him."