"Choose for yourself.--Bear her along, and be rewarded by smiles in the morning; take her back and die, like a mad wolf, in the trap that has before maimed you. Mount horse, Dancy Parkins, and begone; and you, Hyland Gilbert, mount and follow, or stay where you are and perish.--Will you on?" he added, with inexpressible fierceness. "When I have put this lady in safety, but not before," replied Hyland. "Die then for a fool, or help yourself as you may," said the elder brother; and mounting his horse, he instantly galloped out of sight. None now remained with Hyland save the two maidens; for even Dancy, awed by the voice of the refugee, had deserted the once-willing Phoebe. He turned his eyes towards the retreating figures, as if doubting whether they could wholly desert him; but he heard the tramp of the steeds ring farther and fainter each moment, and it was plain that the incensed Oran had abandoned him to his fate. He assisted Catherine to mount, and Phoebe likewise; then taking Catherine's bridle in his hand, he turned the horse's head, and began to retrace his steps without uttering a word. A moody silence possessed him, and even Catherine's voice, now sobbing out her broken gratitude, failed to draw from him more than a few sullen monosyllables. "It shall be as you will," he said; "but let us speak no more.--What matters it now to utter vain words?" The dejection, nay the despair, of spirit conveyed by every tone, smote Catherine to the heart; and had he possessed the art, or the will, to take advantage of the feeling which his evident desolation produced in her bosom, he might yet have won her to his purpose, and borne her afar from parent and friend. But he had neither; he heard her trembling attempts at kindly utterance, (for it was now her part to play the soother,) with apparent indifference; and even when she turned her weeping face towards him, and, in the impulse of real affection, laid her hand upon his, he drew away as with scorn or anger. Their flight had carried them almost to the base of the mountain; and, obscure as was the night, it was plainly distinguishable at that spot where the convulsions of chaotic ages have riven it from the summit to the base, thus hollowing a pathway for a broad river under the shade of its majestic crags. As they turned from it, a pale light glistened among the pines and oaks of the eastern hill, but so faint and dim that one could scarce pronounce it the peep of day-spring. Such, however, it was; fast as had been the flight, it had been over a road where absolute rapidity is, even at this day, rather to be desired than expected; and, had she continued with the wild band, Catherine would have seen the sun steal into the sky, ere they had buried her in the savage recesses where they found their own cities of refuge.