THE HIDDEN PATH.

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There must be some outlet here which I have yet to discover."

Applying himself diligently to the work, he found that the thorn gave way on pressure, and pushing it forcibly, he perceived that its thickness of bush, trailing upon the ground, masked a steep and partly artificial descent, that led apparently by a direct though precipitous route to the foot of the mountain. This, then, must have been the path of Arancino and his prisoner—a path probably known but to a few, and which, but for the accidental circumstance of the fragment of dress adhering to the thorn, Paul might have searched for in vain. It was no doubt in pressing through this leafy portal that Francesca's gown had been caught by the way.

The youth now felt that he was on dangerous ground, and therefore descended step by step with all due caution.

He could not but admire the perseverance which must have been used in the construction of this apparently endless staircase, where flat stones had ween driven into the crumbling side of the mount, and were curiously supported, without cement, by wedges of the same material pressed in where necessity had proved them to be wanted.

The sound of rushing water, that grew stronger as he went on, now became audible, and Paul felt assured he was approaching one of the numerous torrents which, sometimes dry, sometimes resistless from their might and volume, intersect the island in their progress to the sea.

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He had descended perhaps five hundred steps, and yet saw nothing before him but the same green arbour that had been his canopy all along. The dash of the water had meanwhile grown clearer, and Paul, after a few minutes' pause, again pressed onwards.

"Good Heaven!" he exclaimed, "what is that?" He might well be startled, for there suddenly rose into the air a shriek so fearful that it chilled the very marrow of his bones.

He stopped to listen. It was not repeated; but in its place he thought he heard the sound of human voices borne by a rising breeze from the face of the opposite mountain.

Hurrying on, regardless of his own safety, he came to a thick tuft of arbutus which apparently barred his onward progress. Reminded, however, of the masked entrance above, he naturally concluded that this was merely a measure of precaution against discovery at the bottom of the rustic stair; so, pressing against the branches where they appeared to have been recently displaced, he made his way through, and found himself within a few feet of the precipitous and rocky bank of a milky torrent, with a cleared space of ground upon the other side; but the spectacle which met his eyes across the stream filled him with horror and burning indignation.

The open space referred to was surrounded on three sides by the steep banks of the torrent, which varied from ten to twenty yards in breadth. Logs

A TERRIBLE SPECTACLE.

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ɔf trees, rotting where they fell, were strewn about in every direction, and at the further corner-the isthmus, as it were, of the little peninsula-stood a rude building, curiously constructed of unhewn timber and loose fragments of rock, but bearing the aspect of a hermitage. To this character also contributed a large cross by its side, formed in the rudest fashion from a blasted pine.

Behind this solitary retreat recommenced the never-failing forest, with its brushwood, its thorns, its arbutus, its stunted oaks, and occasional larch and pines, with the clinging vine and other parasites waving from the boughs with every action of the breeze. And beyond, and indeed all around, uprose the shaggy mountains, clad with wood to the very summits, and presenting only at intervals the face of a granite rock, which broke the almost monotonous verdure of these primeval forests.

All this Paul took in at a glance; but that which excited the feelings above described was the sight of two persons, whom he recognised at once as the individuals he was in search of.

But in what position? Stretched upon the ground, apparently lifeless, lay Francesca, while Arancino, the bandit, was, with his left hand, dragging her with maniac violence towards the building just mentioned, a naked stiletto being grasped in his right.

The spectacle thrilled Paul with rage and pity. Looking in vain for means to cross the chasm separating him from the desperado, he called out to

him in words which he thought most likely to excite his anger and turn him from his unfortunate victim. In vain. The bandit, if he heard, did not heed his voice, but dragged along the unhappy girl with apparently renewed violence. The enraged youth would have used his pistols at once to chastise the brutal villain, but that he feared, in firing, to injure her whom he wished to save.

But his was not the only eye that beheld this scene, nor was his the only heart that the spectacle lacerated with compassion and swelled almost to bursting. To that eye and heart was joined a hand willing to avenge, and which did not tremble at this moment of supreme danger, although dreading even more than Paul to inflict a wound upon the innocent maiden.

As Paul hesitated, the report of a gun, which awoke an echo from the face of every rock, rang through the ravine, and the bullet, as if imbued with the feeling of the marksman, flew hissing and unerringly towards the broad chest of the bandit.

Its effect was instantaneous. He let go his hold of Francesca's arm, staggered back, and clapping his hand to his breast, for an instant rocked to and fro like a drunken man essaying to keep his footing. At length, as if impelled by some sudden impulse, he dropped upon his knees, and, with his naked dagger still within his hand, began groping his way towards the prostrate body of Francesca.

A horrible thought darted through the youth's brain as he watched the action.