“But from whom, Miss Munro, am I to fear all this?  What has given you this alarm, which, until you can give me some clue to this mystery, I must regard as unadvised and without foundation.  I feel the kindness and interest of your solicitude—­deeply feel, and greatly respect it; but, unless you can give me some reasonable ground for your fears, I must be stubborn in resisting a connection which would have me fly like a midnight felon, without having seen the face of my foe.”

“Oh, heed not these false scruples.  There is no shame in such a flight, and believe me, sir, I speak not unadvisedly.  Nothing, but the most urgent and immediate danger would have prompted me, at this hour, to come here.  If you would survive this night, take advantage of the warning and fly.  This moment you must determine—­I know not, indeed, if it be not too late even now for your extrication.  The murderers, by this time, may be on the way to your chamber, and they will not heed your prayers, and they will scorn any defence which you might offer.”

“But who are they of whom you speak, Miss Munro?  If I must fly, let me at least know from what and whom.  What are my offences, and whom have I offended?”

“That is soon told, though I fear, sir, we waste the time in doing so.  You have offended Rivers, and you know but little of him if you think it possible for him to forget or forgive where once injured, however slightly.  The miners generally have been taught to regard you as one whose destruction alone can insure their safety from punishment for their late aggressions.  My uncle too, I grieve to say it, is too much under the influence of Rivers, and does indeed just what his suggestions prescribe.  They have plotted your death, and will not scruple at its performance.  They are even now below meditating its execution.  By the merest good fortune I overheard their design, from which I feel persuaded nothing now can make them recede.  Rely not on their fear of human punishment.  They care perhaps just as little for the laws of man as of God, both of which they violate hourly with impunity, and from both of which they have always hitherto contrived to secure themselves.  Let me entreat, therefore, that you will take no heed of that manful courage which would be honorable and proper with a fair enemy.  Do not think that I am a victim to unmeasured and womanly fears.  I have seen too much of the doings of these men, not to feel that no fancies of mine can do them injustice.  They would murder you in your bed, and walk from the scene of their crime with confidence into the very courts of justice.”

“I believe you, Miss Munro, and nothing doubt the correctness of your opinion with regard to the character of these men.  Indeed, I have reason to know that what you say of Rivers, I have already realized in my own person.  This attempt, if he makes it, will be the second in which he has put my life in hazard, and I believe him, therefore, not too good for any attempt of this evil nature.  But why may I not defend myself from the assassins?  I can make these logs tenable till daylight from all their assaults, and then I should receive succor from the villagers without question.  You see, too, I have arms which may prove troublesome to an enemy.”