Valerie started back with a shudder, as she so suddenly saw before her the terrible man, who seemed to belong to the darkness and the raging elements. But he had already caught her hand and drawn her into the path, while Elsa, at her aunt's entreating "Let me be alone with him!" unwillingly obeyed her, and remained standing at the shattered door, following with her keen eyes their retreating figures through the dark pathway, ready and determined to hasten to the poor woman's assistance; straining her ear through the rustling and crackling of the bushes, and the roaring and creaking of the trees, and the raging and howling all round her, for any cry for help. She stood there gazing, listening--for some fearful minutes, of which she could have counted each second by the beating of her heart. Now she could see them both walking quickly up and down at the lower end of the path; she thought she could catch a few broken words in Italian--an entreating "_Il nostro figlio_" from him--a passionate "_Giammai! giammai!_" from her. Then again the wild raving of the storm and the tide drowned every sound; the figures vanished into the darkness. She could bear her anxiety no longer, she hurried down the path--past something that glided by her--past him, the traitor! the murderer! She shrieked it aloud, "Traitor! murderer!" The wild scream sounded no louder than an infant's cry. She rushed down the path to the summer-house, crying: "Aunt! aunt!" though she expected to find nothing but a dead body. There--at the foot of the stairs--was her aunt, her dear aunt! She crouched on the lower steps of the staircase, and lifted upon her knees the fallen form, from whose icy forehead a warm stream trickled. But she still lived! she had attempted to press with her slender fingers the hand which had grasped hers; and now, now! thank heaven! there came a few low words, which Elsa, bending low over her, tried to catch. "Do not be alarmed! It is nothing--a fall against the railing as he flung me from him; free--Elsa, free!--free!" Her head sank again on Elsa's bosom, but her heart still beat; it was only a swoon, the result of the terror and loss of blood; she tried to rise and sank back again. Elsa did not lose her courage; as she bound up the wounded forehead with her own and her aunt's handkerchief and a strip torn from her dress--she had had plenty of practice in the hospitals during the war--she considered whether she should try to carry the slender figure to the castle, or whether it would be better to hasten home alone and procure assistance. She would lose a great deal of time either way; but in the first case she would remain with the sufferer, and need not leave her alone in this terrible situation, without, perhaps, being able to make her understand that it was necessary to leave her.