THE HISTORY OF A FOUNDLING. 321 



the intervening distance with a bound, I arose, hoping 

 to catch a glimpse at least of her eyes. Standing with 

 my back to the tree, with my gun to my shoulder, and 

 my eye fixed on the impenetrable curtain of foliage that hung 

 before me, I could not see the faintest light, nor hear the 

 slightest sound. 



My imagination, more rapid than sense, and aided by past 

 memories, brought the lioness before me with outstretched 

 neck, her ears laid back, and her body trembling with excite- 

 ment as she made ready her leap.. One sees often such 

 spectres, when awaiting in the dark, an invisible foe. Yet 

 she did not bound, and the time of her waiting appeared to 

 me immensely long. Huge drops of sweat, in spite of the 

 cold weather, came out on my forehead and rolled down into 

 my eyes, and my nerves commenced to fail me, when sud- 

 denly a thought entered my mind. 



" Why in the world didn't I climb up this cork tree, 

 instead of sitting down at its foot ? 



" And what is there to hinder me from climbing it now, 

 and putting myself in a place of safety, twenty feet from 

 ground ? Who will see it ? Who will know it ? Wouldn't 

 any one else do the same thing in my place ?" 



I thought of it but once, and then put it away as unmanly, 

 and immediately grew calm again. 



I am happy, to-day, while writing these lines, after six 

 years spent in the tumult of the wildest emotions, and marked 

 by more than one tragic drama, to remember and approve 

 the decision of that hour. 



It was then more than at any other time, that I compre- 

 hended the difference that exists between a man who exposes 

 his life in broad daylight, before witnesses, and he, who has 

 only the light of the stars to guide him, and himself to bear 

 him witness. The satisfaction of knowing that I had not 



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