How darest thou say thy prayers, and plan a murder! ... Sheathe your weapon, and blush when next you pray!

The broad sun was half sunk in the firmament, and the moon was just visible through the clouds – the playful breezes were dimpling – the silver streams went limping down the bank – / and tired nature was sinking into the lap of eve – when Lok, Waldorf, and the child, were roving through the whispering woods in peaceful harmony. Just as they turned a leafy avenue, a figure darted from behind a tree, and crossed their path.