"But I have made no promise," cried the tenderhearted woman. "Remain with us, poor Christian, and what Baptist is forbidden to do, I will take upon myself." The shepherd smiled at this compromise between the obligation of a promise and that of charity, and offered no further impediment: but Judith observed that he cautiously abstained from performing any kind office himself, and left the duties of hospitality wholly to his wife. The fugitive's heart was heavy within her the whole of the evening. She now anticipated that every door might be shut against her, and often and solemnly did she consult her Bible for passages of comfort. Some of these she read aloud at the request of the hostess. They amazed her. "Is that the Book we are prohibited from reading?" "It is," said Judith. The shepherd and his wife looked incredulous. "I will not believe it. It is not the Bible!" exclaimed the former. "If the Bible contained such good things as those you have just read, our reverend Curé would command, and not forbid us to use it. I will go down the mountain to-morrow, and ask to see some other Bibles, that I may compare with them that which I have now heard." "My good friend,” replied Judith, "do you not know that our people are prevented, under pain of the severest penalties, from 'giving, selling, or lending a Bible' to any of your persuasion?" The man frowned, and became thoughtful, but said no more. : The next morning Judith left the chalet, with her basket well replenished. As she was sitting under a projecting crag, to shade her infant from the noon-day sun, the mountaineer, whose hut had received her the night before, came to her in manifest agitation, and advised her to leave those parts as puickly as possible, for the Carabineers were searching every chalet and hiding-place on the Col Bianca. The rocks and the forests were from this time her only shelter and she made her disturbed bed under a tree, or in a cavern. For the most part she pursued her way from one mountain-chain to another during the night, and took her feverish rest while the light continued, that her movements might be less exposed to observation. But who can describe, or even imagine her sufferings? The alternations of heat and cold, and the want of sufficient sustenance, were nothing to her terrors,- to her constant state of alarm. Every leaf that moved, every gust of wind that sounded through the fissure of a rock; every moving shadow, was to her frightened imagination, a Carabineer preparing to tear her infant from her bosom. In the extremity of her troubles she drew nigh to Rocca-rossa, with the faint hope of seeing some one who might give her tidings of her husband; but she dared not approach nearer to the hamlet than the pine-wood, which darkens the ridge at many hundred feet above the village. Here she obtained an occasional supply from the shepherds and goatherds, who, being aware that the fugitive was reduced to the last extremity, often ran every risk, and sought opportunities to relieve her. But this could not last long; her strength gradually failed, and every alarm gave an additional shock to her constitution. At times she was roused to extraordinary efforts, by finding herself at no great distance from her pursuers, and then there was no path so rugged, no precipice so fearful, which she would not dare, rather than not escape from them. Upon one occasion, at the turn of a rock, she suddenly found herself within sight of two of her pursuers. They were immediately below her, in the traverse of the same path. Her capture appeared inevitable, both to them and to herself. She looked around in wild despair. To her practised eye, as the daughter of one of the boldest hunters of the Alps, who had often accompanied her father in the U chase, a dizzy ledge appeared capable of barely sustaining her weight; it might bear her, or it might crumble under her feet, and plunge her into the depth below! Should it uphold her, she would gain another path, utterly inaccessible to the armed men who were at hand. The cast was for life or death; the mother's feelings nerved heart and limb; she would rather perish with her child, than surrender him. The spring was made, the ledge was gained, and in an instant the daring woman was placed beyond the reach of the astonished Carabineers. At first, when they saw her foot upon the frail and tottering steep, they shrieked with horror at the sight; but, when the peril was over, one of the men pointed his carabine, and declared he would fire, unless she stopped. The mother who had no fears of precipices, had none of the soldier or his menaces; she refused to stop, and hastened on. - Again the man protested he would discharge his piece, and took deadly aim at the fugitive. At this crisis his comrade struck down the levelled carabine, exclaiming, "Our orders are to take alive, and not to kill." Judith saw and heard what passed, and kneeling down, she praised God aloud for her wonderful preservation, and implored mercy for her pursuers, as they had shewn mercy to her. Doubtless they were glad at heart that this painful duty had not been done, and that the victim had escaped them. Although the fugitive had escaped this danger, yet her situation was as critical as ever. When it was known in what part of the mountains she was taking refuge, the pursuit was more warm; the circle drawn around her was narrowed; the nets were spread in every direction; and she was compelled to seek for an asylum among the most inhospitable of the crags that formed the barriers of the valley. Higher and higher she ascended; oftentimes nothing but the clouds that capped the mountain tops, concealed her from those who continued the search. Her strength gradually diminished, but not her resolution. The third day after the incident with the Carabineers, she was sitting in a cleft in the rocks, which, like a watch tower, commanded the only practicable path towards the summit of the Col. Benedetto, where she was found by a young goatherd, half dead with exhaustion. He relieved her in that drooping condition, by the only means in his power,- by milking his goats, and giving her the precious draught, which appeased both hunger and thirst at the same time. He then persuaded her to take some sleep, and |