A sound of hurrying feet approaches, a wild cry is heard and panting
breath, and the sleeper with a startling scream sprang to her feet: she
dreamed that she was struggling in the fangs of a wolf--its grisly paws
were clasped about her throat; the feeling was agony and suffocation--her
languid eyes open. Can it be?--what is it that she sees? Yes, it is Wolfe;
not the fierce creature of her dreams by night and her fears by day, but
her father's own brave devoted dog. What joy, what hope rushed to her
heart! She threw herself upon the shaggy neck of the faithful beast, and
wept from the fulness of heart.
"Yes," she joyfully cried, "I knew that I should see him again. My own
dear, dear, loving father! Father! father! dear, dear father, here are your
children. Come, come quickly!" and she hurried to the head of the valley,
raising her voice, that the beloved parent, who she now confidently
believed was approaching, might be guided to the spot by the well-known
sound of her voice.
Poor, child! the echoes of thy eager voice, prolonged by every projecting
headland of the valley, replied in mocking tones, "Come quickly!"
Bewildered she paused, listened breathlessly and again she called,
"Father, come quickly, come!" and again the deceitful sounds were repeated,
"Quickly come!"
The faithful dog, who had succeeded in tracking the steps of his lost
mistress, raised his head and erected his ears, as she called on her
father's name; but he gave no joyful bark of recognition as he was wont to
do when he heard his master's step approaching.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119