“Cravens!” he said, “they will stone or burn us!” Elgiva was examining the surface of the rock against which they stood; drawing her hand over it through its veil of thick leaves. She gave a little cry of joy as she entered a crevice in the stone, and drew Cormac after her. The passage was so narrow he was forced to leave his shield behind him. They pressed onward for a few feet, hand in hand, until they felt they were in the heart of the rock. “On!” cried Cormac, “on!” and slipping his arm around the girl forced her forward--till the light behind them had disappeared and the rock on either side had given place to damp earth. “This path leads to the cliffs!” exclaimed Elgiva. And then she gave a sudden cry. “I slip! I fall!” Their path descended with terrible rapidity, but she did not fall, for Cormac’s arm prevented her. “On!” he cried, “on! Though escape lead us to a second death!” They were almost running now; pitch-dark around them; a slippery and treacherous foothold beneath; thick about them a sudden swarm of startled bats. Day seemed, in a strange manner, to be dawning from beneath them. The quick movement, the strange flight, and weird surroundings brought cries and laughter both from Elgiva’s lips--the first sign of weakness she had shown. “Ah me!” she cried, “we have flown from the pikes and knives of men to the awful dwellings of gnomes and mermen. I can stay my feet no longer--I faint, I fall!” Full daylight flashed upon them; a rush of earth and stones accompanied them, as they slid, suddenly, into a shell-strewn cave. They found themselves in the heart of a grotto; a ledge in the steep cliff-side with the wild sea below; inaccessible, save by the subterranean passage through which they had entered. CHAPTER XIII. MAN AND WOMAN. Now that the danger was past and they felt themselves secure from attack, Cormac and Elgiva had no thought save for each other. Their eyes met, and there was a long silence; neither spoke; then Elgiva turned, blushing, and tried to smooth into order the long, tangled masses of her golden hair; she shook the sand and dust from her dress and veil. “You are changed, Elgiva!” said Cormac. Throughout the excitement of the attack and the tumult of their escape, he had been conscious of the girl’s beauty. “Changed!” said Elgiva. “In one short year--is that possible?” Changed--of course she had changed. It was the same fair, blue-eyed face. But she was no longer ungainly and awkward. Her skin was smooth, her hair glossy; her dress as fragrant and dainty as Ethne’s. Now as she moved about the cave he saw that the frame had softened into curves of womanly beauty. Cormac stood struggling with a thousand varied feelings. “Changed--ay, changed! Thou art grown beautiful--a woman--but thou art Saxon!” Then, with one of the swift changes natural to him, he suddenly grew furious. “Curse thee, thou art as Saxon as any Saxon among them--and shall I wed a Saxon?”