CHAPTER II.
ORDSALL CAVE.
After rescuing the unfortunate prophetess from a watery grave in the manner just related, the soldier snatched up his cloak, and, taking his dripping burthen in his arms, hurried swiftly along the bank of the river, until he came to a large cleft in the rock, into which he crept, taking the prophetess with him, and thus eluded observation.

In this retreat he continued upwards of two hours, during which time the poor creature, to whom he paid every attention that circumstances would admit, had so far recovered as to be able to speak.

But it was evident that the shock had been too much for her, and that she was sinking fast.
She was so faint that she could scarcely move; but she expressed a strong desire to reach her cell before she breathed her last.

Having described its situation as accurately as she could to the soldier--who before he ventured forth peeped out to reconnoitre--he again raised her in his arms, and by her direction struck into a narrow lane skirting the bank of the river.
Pursuing this road for about half a mile, he arrived at the foot of a small knoll, covered by a clump of magnificent beech-trees, and still acting under the guidance of the dying woman, whose voice grew more feeble each instant, he mounted it, and from its summit took a rapid survey of the surrounding country.

On the opposite bank of the river stood an old hall, while further on, at some distance, he could perceive through the trees the gables and chimneys of another ancient mansion.
"Raise me up," said Elizabeth Orton, as he lingered on this spot for a moment.