CHAPTER XV.
The Hut.
Meanwhile the Lady Helen, hardly rational from the horror and hope that agitated her, extricated herself from the dead body; and in her eagerness to escape, would certainly have fallen over the precipice, had not the same gallant arm which had covered her persecutor with wounds, caught her as she sprung from the litter.

"Fear not, lady," exclaimed a gentle voice; "you are under the protection of a Scottish knight." There was a kindness in the sound, that seemed to proclaim the speaker to be of her own kindred; she felt as if suddenly rescued by a brother; and dropping her head on his bosom, a shower of grateful tears relieved her heart, and prevented her fainting.

Aware that no time was to be lost, that the enemy might soon be on him again, he clasped her in his arms, and with the activity of a mountain deer, crossed two rushing streams; leaping from rock to rock, even under the foam of their flood; and then treading with a light and steady step, an alpine bridge of one single tree, which arched the cataract below, he reached the opposite side, where, spreading his plaid upon the rock, he laid the trembling Helen upon it.

Then softly breathing his bugle, in a moment he was surrounded by a number of men, whose rough gratulations might have reawakened the alarm of Helen, had she not still heard his voice.
There was graciousness and balm-distilling sweetness in every tone; and she listened in calm expectation.
He directed the men to take their axes, and cut away, on their side of the fall, the tree which arched it.

It was probable the villian he had just assailed, or his followers, might pursue him; and he thought it prudent to demolish the bridge.
The men obeyed, and the warrior returned to his fair charge.