Traditions of Lancashire, Volume 1

It was near the conclusion of this affray, as Mr Broome, the steward, and several of his helpers, were encompassing the great dragon which had so often vomited forth fire and smoke upon them, intending to carry it away captive, that they heard a voice from the breach below:—

"Hold, ye uncircumcised:—I will make your house desolate, and the glory thereof shall be turned into ashes."

"Let us yoke this great Amalekite to the gun. He'll help us well over the ditch."

This goodly piece of advice was not neglected; and the unhappy Gideon, fastened between two yoke-fellows, was dragged on by main force, the hindmost threatening to shoot him if he made any resistance.

In vain did he cry out for vengeance upon them. His gods were deaf—no miracle was wrought for his deliverance; and though he would have called down fire from heaven upon his adversaries, the thunders he impiously desired died harmless on his own tongue.

We again quote the words of the journal:—

"This action continued an houre, with the loss of two men on our part, who, after they were mortally wounded, still fired upon the enemy, till all retreating. What number of the enemy were slain it is not easy to guesse. Besides the execuc'on done in their trenches, Capt. Farmours and Capt. Rattcliffes reserves, w^th the best marksmen, played upon them from the walls with much slaughter, as they quitt theire holds. Our men brought in many armes, three drums, and but five prisoners, preserved by Capt. Chisnall to show that he had mercy as well as valour. One of theese was an assistant to their engineere, Browne, who discovered to us the nature of their trench, in which they had laboured two monthes to draw away our water. Theire first designe was to drayne and open our springs, not considering theire rise from a higher ground south-east from the house, w^ch must needs supply our deepe well, where-ever they suncke their fall: this invenc'on faileing, they bringe up an open trench in a worme work, the earth being indented or sawed for the securitie of their myners, and the ditch two yards wide and three deepe for the fall of the water.

"But now neither ditches nor aught els troubled our souldiers, theire grand terror, the morter-peece, which had frighted 'em from theire meate and sleepe, like a dead lyon, quyetely lying among 'em; everye one had his eye and his foote upon him, shouteing and rejoiceing as merrily as they used to doe w^th theire ale and bagpypes. Indeed ev'y one had this apprehenc'on of the service, that the maine worke was done, and what was yet behind but a meere pastime.

"The enemy, thus terrifyed with this defeate, durst not venture theire workes agayne till midnight; towards morneing removeing some of theire cannon, and the next night stealeing away all the rest, save one peece for a memorand. This one escapyt nayleing, which the colonells durst not venture on itsow ne mount, but planted att a distance, for feare of the madmen in the garrison.

"One thing may not heere bee omitted: that day that our men gave Rigby that shameful defeate, had hee destined for the p'secuteing of his utmost cruelty. Hee had invited, as it is now gen'ally confest, all his friends, the holy abettors of this mischiefe, to come see the house yeelded or burnt, hee haveing purposed to use his morter gunne w^th fireballs or granadoes all afternoone; but her la^pp before two o'clocke (his own tyme) gave him a very skurvy satisfying answ^r, soe that his friends came opportunely to comfort him, who was sicke of shame and dishonour, to be routed by a lady and a handfull of men."

This proved a sore disaster to the besiegers. The soldiers, too, began to cry out for their pay. The long-expected plunder of Lathom had hitherto kept them quiet; but they were now willing to leave this precious booty to the next comers, and content themselves with their stated allowance.

Rigby, fearful of the crumbling away and dispersion of his army, made shift to furnish some small arrears of their pay, declaring that it had cost him £2000 of his own moneys during the siege; but how he got such great store of gold we are not informed, safe that "he was once a lawyer, and a bad one!"

Still there were many deserters, escaping even in the open day; not a few of them coming over with valuable intelligence to the garrison.

"Captain Moseley," said she, having read the summons, commanding her that she should yield up the house, together with the ammunition, arms, goods, servants, children, and her own person too—submitting to the mercy of parliament, "you are, I understand, an honourable man and a soldier."

He bowed with great humility.

"I would not receive this from any other. But"—and her lip curled proudly as she spoke. "Here seems a slight mistake in the wording of your message. They should rather have written cruelty and not mercy!"

"Nay, my lady," he replied, "the mercy of parliament. Trust me, you will not be evil entreated at their hands."

"The mercies of the wicked are cruel," said she, quickly, but with great composure. "Not that I mean," she continued, "a wicked parliament, of which body I have an honourable and reverend esteem, but wicked agents and factors, such as Moore and Rigby, who for the advantage of their own interests labour to turn kingdoms into blood and ruin. Besides, 'tis dangerous treating when the sword is given into the enemies' hand."

"Most assuredly, madam, as our tractates on the art of war teach us,—which it seems you have not studied in vain," said Moseley, bowing with an air of great deference and gallantry. "Your ladyship is commander-in-chief, we hear."

"My lord being absent. I am left in trust, and cannot listen to treaties without his permission."

"Not to dishonourable overtures, assuredly. But if we agree to your own conditions,—quitting the house in the way it shall seem best to your ladyship, as was once the basis of your own propositions, I believe, it cannot in this case be a reproach or a breach of trust, but will prevent much damage, and be the saving of many lives."

"I will not treat without my lord's commands, Captain Moseley, and I have listened to you longer than is expedient. It is unjust to myself, and these brave defenders, that I appear in any way doubtful of their ability and courage. For their sakes, and for my own, I must end this parley."

The officer bowed low at this peremptory dismissal, wishing her ladyship's resolutions were less firm or her means more ample.

"One of these flaming zealots is already extinguished: we have him safe under cover," said her ladyship, smiling; "in our own custody, I trow. He threatened us with all the plagues of Egypt and that of his own tongue to boot,—the worst that ere visited the garrison. One morning, an earthquake would devour us; another, we were to be visited with the destruction of Sodom. Some of our men once looked out for the coming tempest, and buffeted him well for their disappointment. He seems either malignant or insane; but in charity, of which Christian exercise he seems utterly ignorant, we suppose the latter. We have therefore made his feet fast in the stocks, from whence, I hear, he pronounces his anathemas as confidently as though he were armed with the power and thunders of the Vatican!"

"May I crave the name of this doughty personage?—We have but too many of them amongst us."

"Verily, 'tis your drum, by whose hands I have had a message heretofore. The chances of war have again brought him hither,—but now a prisoner!"

"Gideon Greatbatch?"

"The same. We have heard him, with many blasphemous allusions, liken himself unto that great one among the judges of Israel,—and truly he seems more fitted to wield the sword than the drum-stick!"

"Your ladyship would perhaps indulge me with an interview. It might comfort him to see one from the camp."

"Provided that no sinister design or advantage be lurking under this request. Yet am I speaking, I would fain hope, to a gentleman and a soldier."

Moseley was conducted down a dark flight of steps, damp and slippery. The ooze and slime rendered his footing tedious and insecure. Soon he recognised the mighty voice of Gideon bellowing forth a triumphant psalm. Another stave was just commencing as the door opened, and the torch glared lurid and dismally on the iron features and grisly aspect of the captive. A pair of rude stocks, through which Gideon's long extremities protruded, stood in the middle of the dungeon. He scowled terrifically at the intruders; but suddenly resumed his exercise.

"We must wait the finishing of this duty, I fear," said the captain, knowing that interruption would be useless. Silently they awaited the conclusion, when Gideon abruptly cried out—

"Captain Moseley, are ye, too, cast into this den of lions?"

"I came hither on an embassage, and I have craved this visit ere I depart."

"Hast furnished my breakfast?" inquired this stalwart knight from the enchanted wood. "I think your garrison be short of victual, or my"——

"Hold thy tongue, thou piece of ill-contrived impertinence," said the gaoler. "We have victual and drink too; but for such as thou art, it were an ill-bestowed morsel. I marvel what can have possessed my lady to keep thee alive!"

The gaoler drew out from his provision bag a small dark-coloured loaf, which he threw at the hungry captive, who, to say the truth, had been half-starved since his imprisonment.

Gideon was devouring it greedily without any further notice, when he suddenly cried out to his keeper—

"Where gat ye this coarse stuff? I would not say good-morrow to my dog with so crusty a meal."

"It was tossed over the wall," replied the gaoler. "Our friends oft supply us that way with provision, captain. I picked it up as I came, and thought it was too good for thy dainty appetite."

"Captain Moseley," said the hungry drummer, with great earnestness, "take this. Break it before thy brethren, and show them how vilely these Egyptian task-masters do entreat us in the house of bondage."

There was something more than usually impressive in his manner. Moseley took the loaf as requested; and the gaoler, as if the object before him were beneath suspicion, exclaimed with a knowing look—

"Had I not brought the manchet myself, and watched thee narrowily, I should have guessed thou hadst crammed some secret message therein to the camp. But I defy thee, or any of thy batch, to cheat old Gabriel, the rogue's butler!"

"Prithee, search," said Captain Moseley, drawing the loaf from his pocket; "thou mayest, peradventure, find treachery in a toothmark, for o' my troth they be legibly written."

The captain again thrusting it beneath his belt, promised to show his commanders with what coarse fare and severity the prisoners were treated.

"Wilt thou that I intercede for thee before the Countess?" he continued; "if so be that she would remit thee of this durance."

In a voice of thunder spake the incorrigible Gideon—

"Intercede!—I would as lief pray to the saints they should intercede with the Virgin Mary. I will rot from this perch piecemeal ere I pray to yonder ungodly woman. Yet shall I escape out of their hands, but not by mine own might, or mine own strength," said the lion-hearted captive.

Leaving this indomitable Roundhead to his fate, Moseley returned to the camp, reporting the ill success of his mission.

Great part of the day was spent in angry discussion, so that Moseley had nigh forgotten his message from Gideon; yet he remembered it ere he left the council. Pulling out a coarse bannock, to the great astonishment of his auditory, he brake it, relating his interview with the captive. Near to where the prisoner had taken his last mouthful, Moseley found a bit of crumpled paper. The surprise and dismay of the assembly may be conceived after he had read the following billet:—

No mean act of heroism for a starving man to wrench the food from his own jaws,—a deed we might in vain look for amongst the patriots of our own day,—persons who would sneer at the fanaticism, and, it may be, the sincerity of Gideon Greatbatch.

Consternation was visible throughout the assembly. They had all along flattered themselves with the expectation that Prince Rupert's army was too urgently required for the relief of York, to have caused them any disturbance; and, with inward curses on the king for his humanity, secret preparations were made for raising the siege.

Though ignorant of the cause, the garrison soon espied an unusual bustle in the camp. They were evidently preparing for some exploit. One of the spies brought intelligence that two squadrons had departed in the night, and that Colonels Moore and Ashton were on their return to Manchester.

On Monday morning, the 27th of May, it was agreed that Captains Ogle and Rawsthorne should make a sally. But they found the enemy had been beforehand with them, leaving the camp in the utmost terror and disorder. Intelligence now arrived that Prince Rupert had entered Lancashire by way of Stockport, where the Parliament army, under Colonels Duckenfield, Mainwaring, Buckley, and others, had suffered a total route. The besiegers had commenced their retreat between twelve and one o'clock the preceding night.

Thus ended the first siege of Lathom, after the place had been closely beset four months; during which time the garrison lost but six men,—four in the service, and two by negligence and over-daring.

They were, in general, supplied with provisions, her ladyship seeing the men's rations duly served. Yet were they not seldom pushed to a sally for their dinner; their friends outside, by lights and other appointed signals, directing the foragers in their operations.

The next day Rigby, with about 3000 men, drew up at Eccleston Green, six miles only from Lathom, in great uncertainty which way to march, fearful of meeting with Prince Rupert. In the end, imagining that his Highness would go through Blackburn or Lancaster to the relief of York, Rigby marched off in great haste to Bolton, then a garrison town, and well fortified.

The Prince, hearing of their escape, together with Lord Derby, immediately turned their forces in this direction, determined to carry the place by assault, and revenge the insults and barbarity her ladyship had endured. This resolution was terribly accomplished. Sixteen hundred of her besiegers lay dead on the place; and twenty-two colours, which three days before flourished proudly before the house, were presented to her from his Highness by Sir Richard Crane, as a memorial of her deliverance, and "a happy remembrance of God's mercy and goodness to her and her family."

—The Children in the Wood.

Situated amid the wild and high moorlands, at whose feet hath stood for ages the royal and ducal capital of the county palatine of Lancaster, once rose a strong border defence called Raven Castle. Its site only remains. This noble and castellated fortress now lies an almost undistinguishable heap on the barren moor; the sheep browse above it, and the herdsman makes his pillow where warriors and dames once met in chivalric pomp, and the chieftain held his feudal and barbaric court.

The point on which it stood is nearly on the line of separation between the counties of York and Lancaster. From the southern declivity of the hill on the Yorkshire side springs one of the rills which fall into the Hodder, a well-known stream, held in great respect by those ambulatory gentlemen whose love of society and amusing recreations leads them to lay in a stock of patience for life in the pursuit of piscatory delights.

This mountainous tract forms part of the forest of Bowland, once ranged by numerous herds of deer, and is still under the jurisdiction of a master-forester, or bow-bearer, called Parker, which office has been held for centuries by a family of that name.

As they passed by the edge of a steep ravine, from which hung a few stunted oaks projecting over the gulf, the foremost rider—for the path admitted them not abreast—turned sharply round on his saddle.

"Again!—Didst thou not see it, Michael?" inquired he, in great alarm.

"Nothing, Anthony, as I do follow thee in this honest trade;—nothing, I tell thee, save thine ugly face in this clear moonshine. Prythee, make more speed, and thou wilt have the fewer wry mouths to answer for. Thou art fool enough to make a man forswear honesty, and rid him of his conscience for life. Beshrew me! thou hast got a troublesome tenant; either less roguery, or fewer qualms; depend on 't, thou canst not keep friends with both."

"I'll go no farther. Old Hildebrand finds some foul business on his hands, that he would fain thrust into our fingers. A bad business quits best at the beginning; if once we get to the middle, we might as well go on, or we may be like old Dick, who swam half-way through the mill-pond, and then, being faint-hearted, swam back again."

"Look thee now, thou art a precious ass:—thou wouldst be a wit without brains, and a rogue, ay, a very wicked and unconditional rogue, without courage. Tut, that same cowardly rogue, of all unparalleled villains, is verily the worst. Your liquorish cat, skulking and scared with a windle-straw, is always the biggest thief, and has the cruellest paws, for all her demure looks and her plausible condescensions."

"I don't care for thy jeers, Michael."

"What!—hast brought thy purpose to an anchor already? 'Tis well. I shall on to Raven Castle with all speed, if it were only to inform one Hildebrand Wentworth of this sudden qualm. Likewise I may, peradventure, remember to tell him of another little qualm thou wast taken with, once upon a time, at the sight of a score of his fat beeves; a little bit of choice roguery played off upon him by honest Anthony of the tender conscience! Look to it, comrade, he shall know of this before thou canst convey thy cowardly carcase out of his clutches. An' it be thou goest forward—mum!—backward! Ha! have I caught thee, my pretty bird?"

For an hour or two they travelled on as fast as the nature of their track would permit. Day was just brightening in the east, when, emerging from a more than usually intricate path, they pushed through a thick archway of boughs. Suddenly a bare knoll presented itself, sloping towards a narrow rivulet; beyond, a dark and well-fortified mansion stood before them,—here and there, a turret-shaped chamber, lifting its mural crown above the rest, rose clear and erect against a glowing sky, now rapidly displacing the grey hues of the morning. The narrow battlements rose up, sharp and distinct, but black as their own grim recesses, in solemn contrast with the bright and rolling masses from behind, breaking into all the gorgeous tints that betoken a heavy and lurid atmosphere.

They crossed a narrow bridge, and the clattering of their horses' hoofs were soon heard in the courtyard of the castle.

"So, masters, if it had not pleased your betters to have built hostels and roosting-places on the road, I might have been snug in my blanket some hours ago may be."

The personage who thus accosted them was dressed in a plain leathern cap and doublet, with a pair of stout hose that would not have disgraced a burgher of the first magnitude; his short and frizzled beard was curiously twirled and pointed, we may suppose after the fashion of those regions; and his manner and appearance was that of some confidential menial belonging to the establishment. His whole demeanour had in it an air of impertinent authority; his little sharp eyes twinkled in all the plenitude of power, and peered in the faces of the travellers as they alighted to render him an unwilling salutation.

"We have made the best of our road, Master Geoffery, since we left our quarters in Netherdale. But, in troth, it's a weary way, and a drouthy one into the bargain: I have not wet even the tip of this poor beast's nose since we started."

Taking a small lamp from a recess, he commanded the strangers to follow. A wide staircase led to the gallery, from whence a number of low doors communicated with the chambers or dormitories. Entering a passage from an obscure corner, they ascended a winding stair. The huge and terrific spars of the intruders struck with a shrill clank on the narrow steps, mingled with the grumblings of Master Geoffery Hardpiece; a continual muttering was heard from the latter, by way of running accompaniment to the directions which, ever and anon, he found it needful to set forth.

"There—an ass, a very ass!—keep thy face from the wall, I tell thee, and lift up thy great leathern hoofs."

Then came another series of murmurings, mingled with confused and rambling sentences.

"This stair is like old Giles's horn, it's long a-winding. Now,—thy spurs, is it? Aroynt thee, knave, thou art like to frighten the children with their clattering. They are up, and ready for their trip. Alice will stitch a pillow to your pummels, and they'll ride bravely, the pretty dears. Stop there, I tell ye; I'll just say that you wait his pleasure, and return."

Old Hardpiece tapped gently at a small door; it was opened hastily; and a few moments only elapsed ere Master Geoffery's cunning face was cautiously extended out of the narrow opening. He beckoned to his companions, and at once ushered them into a low chamber. A lamp, half extinguished, stood on the floor; the walls were nearly bare, and streaked in various colours by the moisture filtering from the roof; a curiously-carved oak-table, and two or three stone benches comprised the furniture of the apartment; a few rusty swords, with two large pistols nearly falling from their holsters, hung from the wall. In one corner, reposing in decayed dignity, were seen some halberds, with several unmatched pairs of mildewed boots; near to the window, or rather loop-hole, heaped up in dust and disorder, lay a score or two of rusty helmets, their grim appurtenances mostly broken and disjointed.

"Is this your haste, when my commands are most urgent?"

He turned sharply upon them as he spoke: his eyes grew wild and keen; but at times a heaviness and languor, as if from long watching, seemed to oppress them.

"We could not"—Michael was stammering out an apology, when thus interrupted:—

"Enough! I know what thou wouldst say. Let thy comrade remain below. Geoffery, conduct him to the refectory; Michael abides here. Haste, and let refreshments be prepared."

What was the purport of the conversation that ensued may be surmised from the following history.

Old Hardpiece, grumbling the greater part of the way, led his companion through a labyrinth of stairs and passages to a small room, where a huge flagon of ale, with cold beef and other substantial articles for breakfast, were about being displayed. Anthony, nothing loth, threw aside his cap, and unbraced his girdle, for the more capacious disposal of such savoury and delicious viands. A heavy pull at the tankard again brought out Master Geoffery's deep-mouthed oratory. Anthony's tongue grew more nimble as his appetite waxed less vigorous; he asked many questions about the business which required their presence at Raven Castle in such haste.

"The orphan children of Sir Henry Fairfax are to be conveyed to some place of concealment for a short period. Master says he has had intimation of a design on the part of the late Sir Henry's friends to seize them perforce. Which act of violence Hildebrand Wentworth, being left as their sole guardian, will make all haste to prevent."

"The children of the late Sir Harry Fairfax who was killed in the wars?" inquired Anthony.

"Ay, ay. Poor things! since their mother drowned herself"——

"Goody Shelton says she walks in the forest; and that her wraith so frightened Humphrey's horse that it would not budge a straw's breadth, just beside the great oak in the Broad Holm, before you get into the forest on the other side towards Slaidburn."

Anthony was, at this precise moment, cramming the last visible remains of a goose-pie into the same place where he had before deposited half the good things on the table, anointing his beard with their savoury outskirts,—when suddenly his chin dropped, his face assumed a sort of neutral tinge, and his whole form appeared to grow stiff with terror. He made several efforts to speak; but the following words only could be distinguished:—

"I was sure it would be a ghost!"

"What!—a ghost!—Where!" anxiously inquired Geoffery.

"Just by the great oak in the Broad Holm, on the other side of the forest."

"What was it like?"

"I cannot tell; and Michael pretended he did not see it!"

"Thou canst surely show the appearance it put on."

"Something, as it might be, like unto a woman, crossed our path twice, and within a stone's throw. O Master Geoffery, we be dead men!"

Another groan here interrupted their discourse. Master Hardpiece muttered some unintelligible prayers, putting on a face of great solemnity. Several minutes elapsed, while the following exclamations rapidly succeeded each other:—

"A ghost!—save us!—a very ghost! I'll not to Slaidburn again without help. Another draught, Anthony; a stiffener to thy courage, mayhap. It's now daylight, though," said he, looking through the casement, "and most of us fear only what may be felt, in the day-time at any rate."

Light footsteps were now heard bounding along the passage, and the door was suddenly burst open by two rosy-cheeked children; the elder a boy of some four or five years' growth, and his sister scarcely a twelvemonth younger.

"Master Geoffery, Master Geoffery," lisped one laughing urchin, "hide me; there is Alice—she'll not let me go. We are to ride on two great horses; and I shall have a sword, and sister Julia a coach."

Here nurse Alice made her appearance. She had been weeping: tears and entreaties were vain. She asked permission to accompany them; but with a frown Hildebrand Wentworth had chidden her from his presence. Since the loss of her mother, and almost from the time that news had arrived of their father's death, which happened a little while before the birth of Julia, she had borne a mother's part to her little charge; and had it been allowed her, she would gladly have served them without reward.

Fearful of leaving them, she had followed hastily into the room. With a searching glance she eyed the stranger for a while; then suddenly turning to the children, she addressed them with great seriousness and affection.

"Harry, you have not repeated your prayer this morning. Do you think God will take care of you to-day, if you ask Him not?"

Here the rebuked boy grew silent; and with a suffused face, ran to his nurse. Whilst in her lap, he poured out his morning orison. It was a simple but affecting request. Julia knelt also; and Alice, laying a hand on each, blessed the children.

"God of their fathers, I commit them to Thy care!"

She could say no more; loud sobs checked her utterance; but leaning over these little ones, she convulsively clasped them in her embrace.

Old Hardpiece grew unusually busy about matters of no importance, and the hard-featured trooper was seen to brush his brows, as though some unpleasant suspicions had crossed his brain. He raised his arm as he gazed on the children, muttering as he clenched his hand—

"It's four long years come St Barnabas since Sir Harry's death; and my lady, rest her soul! went melancholy soon after. Everything was bequeathed in trust to my master, Hildebrand Wentworth, a great friend of Sir Harry's, and his secretary or purse-bearer, I forget which—no matter—all the property, I say, was left in trust for Sir Harry's wife and children. Hildebrand brought a will from Sir Harry to this effect, and poor Lady Fairfax never looked up afterwards. She moped about, and would see nobody, and then it was they said she was out of her wits. It was not long before her head-gear and mantle were found by the river-side just below the old bridge you crossed—but her body never."

Here the entrance of Michael cut short the old man's discourse.

"Belike thou hast not lacked a cup of warm sack, and a whey-posset with my master in the west turret," scoffingly cried Master Geoffery. Michael looked surly as he replied—

"Old Gabergeon, let us have a draught of thy best, a stirrup-cup. Breakfast I have settled with above stairs."

"Marry take your swill, Mr Saucypate," tartly replied Geoffery. "And so, because you have eaten and drunk with my master, it is 'old Gabergeon;' else had it been good Master Hardpiece, or 'if you will, Master Geoffery!' Out upon such carrion, say I, that think themselves live meat when they are but fly-blown."

"Old Geoffery," said Michael, coolly, "we'll settle our rank at a more convenient opportunity. Just now I'll thank thee for the flagon."

"It's in the cupboard," growled Hardpiece. "Verily these arms would tingle. But I am old, and that same Michael but a sorry brute—no beating would mend him. An ass of most vicious propensities; he will bite forwards and kick backwards. Friends get the benefit of his teeth, and foes the favour of his heels."

"Remember!—the gulf underneath the waterfall."

The horsemen departed. Passing the bridge they were just rising over the green slope when the children recognised Alice upon her mistress's palfrey. They screamed out loudly to her; but she was riding in a contrary direction, and soon passed out of their sight.

The narrow glades of the forest suddenly encompassed them. The morning was pretty far advanced; the merry birds twittered in their dun covert, brushing the dewdrops from the boughs with their restless wings. The thrush and blackbird poured forth a more melancholy note; whilst the timid rabbit, scared from his morning's meal, rushed by and sought his burrow. The wood grew thicker, and the sunbeams that shot previously in broad slopes across their path soon became as lines of intensely-chequered light piercing the grim shadows beneath. The trees, too, put on a more sombre character; and the sward appeared choked with rank and noxious weeds. It seemed a path rarely trod, and only to be recognised by occasional openings through the underwood.

They travelled for some hours. Michael had taken the lead, and Anthony with his prattling charge rode carelessly on. Looking round, the latter suddenly checked his horse. A momentary alarm overspread his features as he cried—

"Heed not, comrade; thou wilt soon find we have the right track before us. We shall be through the wood presently."

"Why, this is the road to Ingleton, if I mistake not; I hear the roar of the Greta."

"Right—we shall be on our road to the old castle shortly."

They travelled on more silently than before, until the brawling of the torrent they had heard for some time increased with rapid intensity. The road now widening, Anthony spurred on his beast by the side of his companion, who slackened his pace to afford an opportunity for further parley.

"Whither are we bound?" inquired Anthony.

"Where the children will be well cared for."

A dubious expression of countenance, which Anthony but too well understood, accompanied these words; and villain was expressed by indications too unequivocal to be easily mistaken through every change and inflection of his visage. Anthony, though not of the most unsullied reputation, and probably habituated to crimes at which humanity might shudder, pressed the little victim closer to his breast. The prattle of the babe had won his heart: and the morning scene with Alice had softened his spirit so that he could have wept when he thought of the remorseless nature of his comrade, to whose care the children were entrusted.

The roar of the torrent grew louder. Suddenly they entered upon a sort of irregular amphitheatre—woods rising above each other to the very summit of the hills by which they were surrounded. A swollen waterfall was visible, below which a bare and flattened trunk, whose boughs had apparently been but just lopped, was thrown across the torrent. A ruined keep or donjon was seen above a line of dark firs, crowning the summit of a steep crag that rose abruptly from the river.

"This is our halfway-house," said Michael, pointing to the grim fortress: "the children are tired, and have need of refreshment. Tarry here with the horses whilst I carry them over the bridge."

"We have refreshments in the wallet—what need we to loiter yonder?" replied Anthony, eyeing the other with an expression of distrust.

"If rest be needful," was the reply, "surely this dry sward and these overhanging leaves will afford both rest and shelter."

"The children are in my keeping," said Michael, fiercely, "and I am not to account with thee for my proceedings. Alight, and give me the child."

"I will not!—Michael, I have watched thee, and I know that thou art a villain. Ay, draw, I have weapons too, comrade."

Fast and furious grew the combat, during which the terrified children made the woods echo with their shrieks. The result was not long doubtful. Michael soon proved himself the better swordsman; and his antagonist, stumbling from fatigue, broke his own weapon in the fall. Defenceless and exposed, the uplifted sword of his adversary was raised for his destruction, when suddenly the arm of the ruffian was arrested, the weapon snatched from his grasp, and a female figure habited in a dark and coarse vestment stood between the combatants. Her brow was bare, and her dark full eye beamed on them with a look of pity and of anger. Her naturally pale cheek was flushed; but it betrayed not the agitation she endured. Erect and unbending she stood before them, and the quailing miscreant crouched at her feet.

"Away to thy master!—thy blood, too worthless even for thine own steel"——

She hurled away the weapon as she spoke.

Hildebrand Wentworth had passed the remainder of that day in his own chamber. It was a dark lone room, leading out of the turret we have before described. Often had he ascended the narrow stair communicating with the parapet, and often had he watched the dark woods beneath the distant mountain. It was the road taken by his guilty emissaries; and, whether on the look-out for signals or for their return, he repeated his visits until the blue mists were gathering on the horizon, and day—another day!—had passed into the bosom of eternity. It was an hour of holiness and peace, but heavy and disturbed was the current of his thoughts. He sat near a projecting angle of the turret, his head bent over the parapet. A female voice was heard beneath, chanting monotonously a low and melancholy psalm. Soon the following words were distinguished:—