wrought and half pierced by men. She had come thither once ín bygone years when the great pleader, Fiesoli, had hidden there, proscribed for too fearless a defence of a political prísoner; she passed straight onward now through the thick darkness, her hand on her hound's mane to still his longing rage, her tyrant following in her steps, flushed with the wine of success, yet silenced by a vague and restless disquietude.
The length of the cavern wound like a tangled skein through the depth of stone, no light breaking through it, and the air waa chill, and close, and dank, like the air of a tomb; it was cramped and tortuous, andthe hard jagged surface of the rock bruised her as she went. Once he stretched out his hand to guide her; she shook it off as though it stung her, and passed on alone, more rapidly, and full as calmly as though she swept down some sun-lighted terrace amongst the roses of a golden summer-time.
"She will never fear! he thought; and to the heart of the man that unconquerable courage of a woman brought a sullen impatient wondering veneration. He was a coward—a coward at the mere gleam of steel, at the mere common, vulgar terrors of physical peril; but in her he had never known one pulse of fear. There was a pang of wistful, painful
