Chapter 23

Let no presuming railer tax
Creative wisdom, as if aught was form'd
In vain, or not for admirable ends.

Thomson.

So long as we possess the power to struggle, hope is the last feeling to
desert the human mind. Men are endowed with every gradation of courage,
from the calm energy of reflection, which is rendered still more effective
by physical firmness, to the headlong precipitation of reckless spirit:
from the resolution that grows more imposing and more respectable as there
is greater occasion for its exercise, to the fearful and ill-directed
energies of despair. But no description with the pen can give the reader a
just idea of the chill that comes over the heart when accidental causes
rob us, suddenly and without notice, of those resources on which we have
been habitually accustomed to rely. The mariner without his course or
compass loses his audacity and coolness, though the momentary danger be
the same; the soldier will fly, if you deprive him of his arms; and the
hunter of our own forests who has lost his landmarks, is transformed from
the bold and determined foe of its tenants, into an anxious and dependent
fugitive, timidly seeking the means of retreat. In short, the customary
associations of the mind being rudely and suddenly destroyed, we are made
to feel that reason, while it elevates us so far above the brutes as to
make man their lord and governor, becomes a quality less valuable than
instinct, when the connecting link in its train of causes and effects is
severed.

It was no more than a natural consequence of his greater experience, that
Pierre Dumont understood the horrors of their present situation far better
than any with him. It is true, there yet remained enough light to enable
him to pick his way over the rocks and stones, but he had sufficient
experience to understand that there was less risk in remaining stationary
than in moving; for, while there was only one direction that led towards
the Refuge, all the rest would conduct them to a greater distance from the
shelter, which was now the only hope. On the other hand, a very few
minutes of the intense cold, and of the searching wind to which they were
exposed, would most probably freeze the currents of life in the feebler of
those intrusted to his care.

"Hast thou aught to advise?" asked Melchior de Willading, folding Adelheid
to his bosom, beneath his ample cloak, and communicating, with a father's
love, a small portion of the meagre warmth that still remained in his own
aged frame to that of his drooping daughter--"canst thou bethink thee of
nothing, that may be done, in this awful strait?"

"If the good monks have been active--" returned the wavering Pierre. "I
fear me that