1830. J a Tale of the Ancient Britons. 283 



" The emperor ?" replied Manlius ; " never ! But come," he added, 

 in his most soothing manner, " the damage is not irretrievable ; if my 

 blunder has occasioned you the loss of a battle, it is fit that my inge- 

 nuity should restore it." 



" Restore it ? Alas ! what is there left to restore ? Can you restore 

 me my gallant troops ? Can you put life into my martyred legion? 

 Can you heal my wounded honour, or cool this fever in my brain ?" 

 (striking his hands passionately against his forehead). " By the eternal 

 Mars ! Manlius, you drive me mad. Another such word of mockery, 

 and I strike you dead." 



The youth stood calm and unmoved ; and after waiting till the sol- 

 dier's phrenzy had in part expended itself, replied, " I deserve your 

 reproaches ; but indeed indeed I did all for the best. Meanwhile, 

 fortune has not wholly deserted us. Our army, it is true, is disper- 

 sed ; but thousands yet survive, smarting under a sense of dishonour, 

 and burning to retrieve their loss. To-morrow we can rally, and lead 

 them against the enemy ; but at present let me guide you to the only 

 secure place of shelter that this country affords, and which I discovered 

 last night on my return from the British encampment, where we can 

 discuss our future operations. Quick, Sergius ! for I hear the tramp 

 of the enemy's horse." 



With these words, the youth grasped his companion by the arm, and 

 forcing him behind an immense block of granite, the pair had barely 

 time to conceal themselves, when a squadron of the Silures came thun- 

 dering by. 



When the enemy had passed, Manlius, after looking cautiously round 

 him, ventured forth from his concealment, and whispering Sergius to 

 follow, hastened across the plain in the direction of the Black Moun- 

 tains. Lost to every thing but a sense of his own dishonour, the Dacian 

 passively obeyed. He made not the slightest inquiries as to whither his 

 guide intended to lead him, but with downcast looks and trembling pace 

 followed sullenly in his track. By the time they reached the end of the 

 plain, the west had become dark. The winding crags of the mountains 

 stood boldly out before them, tinted with a myriad shades and colours 

 some black as the raven's wing, some grey with lichens and wild 

 mosses, and some bloody with the red sand-stone. At the base of this 

 steep chain, stood the long straggling village to which we have before 

 alluded, whose huts, composed merely of stakes, interwoven with wat- 

 tles, and covered in at the top with rude skins, had been apparently 

 deserted for some hours. Not a voice saluted the travellers as they 

 passed; not a light glanced out from any of the quaint, shapeless 

 hovels ; solitude, and that of the most cheerless character, was around 

 them, excepting when some sheep-dog barked, or some shy stray goat 

 butted at their passing shadows. 



A few minutes sufficed to carry Sergius and his guide beyond the 

 village, when they at once began to climb the long acclivities of the 

 mountains. At first their ascent was gradual, and comparatively safe in 

 point of footing ; but as they gained a higher elevation, the difficulties 

 of the road increased. In one place, their route led them across a morass, 

 the shallow surface of which kept continually undulating as they passed 

 over it j in another, they were compelled to creep on hands and knees 

 up the sides of one of those rugged channels which had been eaten into 

 by the hungry winter torrents, with a deep tarn beneath them, and a 



2 N 2 



