"
"The name is well known to me," she replied, in trembling tones; "and I
have seen you once--at my grandfather's cottage. But why have you
come here? Do you know where you are?
"I know that I am in the cave of Herne the Hunter," replied Wyat; "and
one of my motives for seeking it was to set you free. But there is
nothing to prevent your flight now."
"Alas! there is," she replied. " I am chained here by bonds I cannot
break. Herne has declared that any attempt at escape on my part shall
be followed by the death of my grandsire. And he does not threaten
idly, as no doubt you know. Besides, the most terrible vengeance would
fall on my own head. No,--I cannot--dare not fly. But let us not talk in
the dark. Come with me to procure a light. Give me your hand, and I
will lead you to my cell."
Taking the small, trembling hand offered him, Wyat followed his
conductress down the passage. A few steps brought them to a door,
which she pushed aside, and disclosed a small chamber, hewn out of
the rock, in a recess of which a lamp was burning. Lighting the lamp
which she had recently extinguished, she placed it on a rude table.
"Have you been long a prisoner here?" asked Wyat, fixing his regards
upon her countenance, which, though it had lost somewhat of its
bloom, had gained much in interest and beauty.
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