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“You are all I’ve got, son,” was the quiet reply. “I must let you do the best you can for yourself.” Julia's tears declared her gratitude; she had no time for words. They stepped into the path, and the father closed the door. They were now liberated from the monastery, but danger awaited them without, which it required all their caution to avoid. Ferdinand knew the path which the friar had pointed out to be the same that led to the rocks where his horses were stationed, and he pursued it with quick and silent steps. Julia, whose fears conspired with the gloom of night to magnify and transform every object around her, imagined at each step that she took, she perceived the figures of men, and fancied every whisper of the breeze the sound of pursuit. Some liberty has been taken with the original text, chiefly to eliminate circumstances or incidents which would not be clear to child readers in a different environment; but I have taken pains to keep the translation faithful to the original in spirit and expression, appreciating that in these lies much of the wholesome power of the book. “It seems to me you are very pale,” pursued Mother. “Are you sure you are not sick?”.