LI B RAR.Y 
 
 OF THL 
 
 UNIVER.5ITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 
 HSU 
 v.| 
 
/^7 
 
 HILDEBHAND. 
 
NEW WORK, BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 Preparing Jbr Publication, in 3 vols. 8ro., 
 
 THE OLD TEMPLE 
 
 AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF "HILDEBRAND, 
 
 Within the Temple hall we were too loud, 
 The garden here is more convenient." 
 
 Shakspearb. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 JOHN MORTIMER, ADELAIDE STREET, 
 
 TRAFALGAR SQUARE. 
 
HILDEBRAND 
 
 THE DAYS OF QUEEN ELIZABETH, 
 
 AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF "THE KING'S SON.' 
 
 Frugal and wise, a Walsingham is thine ; 
 A Drake, who made thee mistress of the sea, 
 And bore thy name in thunder round the world. 
 Then flamed thy spirit high ; but who can speak 
 The numerous worthies of the maiden reign ? 
 In Raleigh mark their every glory mix'd; 
 Raleigh, the scourge of Spain ! Thomson. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 JOHN MORTIMER, ADELAIDE STREET, 
 
 TRAFALGAR SQUARE. 
 
 MDCCCXLIV. 
 
LONDON : PRINTED BY HENHY RICHARDS, 
 BRYDGES-STREET, COVENT-GARDKN. 
 
6S3 
 
 hildebrand; 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The last rays of a July sun were extending 
 themselves over the western sky, and that 
 sweetest period of a summer's day — the cool 
 evening — had just opened, when a horseman 
 made his appearance on the high-road be- 
 tween Exeter and London, in the midland 
 v^ section of Devonshire. He looked a young 
 M man ; and his years were not so many even, 
 ^as one would, at first sight, have inferred 
 ^from his looks. Care and travel, and pro- 
 -ibably privation, had given a stamp of expe- 
 jrience to his features, and an air of reflection 
 ^ to his face, that savoured more of a man of 
 
 4^ VOL. I. B 
 
2 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 thirty, than one of four or five and twenty 
 years, which was more likely his age. Yet, 
 to judge from his appearance, he was not one 
 of those who would let the cares of life press 
 upon him heavily, or of a constitution that, 
 from any imperfectness or defect, would suffer 
 greatly under the infliction of privation or 
 hardship. His countenance was almost an 
 oval, and sorted well with his light-brown 
 beard and moustache, which, though they 
 were no way scanty, he wore thin and 
 pointed. His complexion was of that red 
 and white which, in men, is so peculiarly 
 English, and would have been fair to efiPe- 
 minacy, only that it bore evidence of having 
 been exposed, no very long time previous, to 
 a more glowing sun than that of England, 
 which had given it a more manly tone, and 
 rendered its beauty more lively and animated. 
 His blue eyes were not large, but they were 
 finely coloured and penetrating, and harmo- 
 nized well with his fair forehead, which. 
 
HILDEBRAND. d 
 
 though not lofty, was unrufifled and expan- 
 sive. His other features were turned with 
 accuracy, and the tone of each was such as, 
 in most instances, marlis a sanguine tempera- 
 ment and a generous disposition. Neverthe- 
 Jess, the ensemble of his face was not without 
 a touch of melancholy, though it was pro- 
 bably more the indication and effect of a pen 
 sive turn of mind, nursed by vicissitude, or 
 kept in constant exercise by his daily avoca- 
 tions, than the vestige of any past sorrow or 
 present care. Indeed, in the life and anima- 
 tion of every feature, this small trace of 
 gloom beneath the eyes, though it was ever 
 present, was almost lost ; and there was no 
 point in his face but manifested, in a greater 
 or a less degree, the spirit of frankness, 
 buoyancy, and good -nature. 
 
 The horseman was of a tall person, which 
 was the more in his favour as, from early ex- 
 ercise, the muscles of his fine broad chest were 
 fully developed, and all his well-turned limbs 
 
 ^2 
 
4 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 denoted unity and power- He was attired in 
 grave habits, cut in the fashion of the age, 
 which was that of Elizabeth ; yet his erect 
 and soldier-like bearing, more conspicuous 
 from his being mounted, betokened that he 
 had not always worn the garments of peace, 
 but had at some time followed the noble pro 
 fession of arms. A long basket-hilted sword, 
 of the kind called cut-and-thrust, hung at his 
 left side ; and a small valise (seemingly made 
 to hold a change of raiment, and probably the 
 appurtenances of his toilet), which was fast- 
 ened to the back of his saddle, completed his 
 equipment. 
 
 He sat his horse with much grace, and with 
 that union of ease and dignity, joined to 
 flexity of limb, which denoted no less the per- 
 fect horseman, than the true and polished gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 A slight breeze had risen with the evening, 
 and as he had probably ridden some distance, 
 and the day had been warm, the horseman 
 
HILDEBRAND. 5 
 
 rode along; at a gentle pace, in order that he 
 might enjoy more fully, and with greater ease, 
 the fresh free air that played around him. As 
 he passed along, his eye glanced wistfully 
 over the country on either side, seeming to 
 take in, every now and then, some well-known 
 and agreeable object, that called a brighter 
 lustre to his eye, and often a smile to his lip. 
 Occasionally the notes of a blackbird, or some 
 other feathered songster, would draw his at- 
 tention to the bush that bordered the road, 
 and which was now adorned with many a 
 wreath of the wild dog-rose, and the varied 
 greens of the hawthorn and blackberry. 
 Then his feelings, responding to the cheering 
 melody, would manifest a new and more sen- 
 sible buoyancy, and spread over his manly 
 face a glow of earnest pleasure. 
 
 Thus he rode leisurely along, when, as he 
 approached a secluded -looking by-road, his 
 ear was saluted by the report of a pistol, fol- 
 lowed by a shrill screan^ ; and this incident 
 
6 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 induced him to bring his horse to a stand. 
 But after a moment's hesitation he pushed 
 forward again, and, clapping spurs to his 
 horse, passed at a smart pace down the con- 
 tiguous by-road, whence the sounds that had 
 alarmed him seemed to have emanated. 
 
 The road was, like all the cross-roads of 
 the period, narrow and rugged, and in many 
 parts overgrown with grass, or traversed by 
 deep ruts, that rendered any kind of progress 
 a matter of labour and difficulty. It was 
 bounded on either side by the fence of the 
 neighbouring fields — the common quickset, 
 or field-hedge, which now had attained its 
 full growth, and displayed all the luxuriance 
 of maturity. Behind the hedge ran a row of 
 elms, in irregular rank, and at no certain or 
 fixed intervals, the boughs of which overhung 
 the road, and frequently met about its centre. 
 Indeed, the road was not unlike the avenue 
 to a gentleman's house, only that its extreme 
 ruggedness, joined to the fence of quickset 
 
HILDEBRAND. 7 
 
 aforementioned, and its occasional patches 
 of vegetation, somewhat impaired the simi- 
 larity, and were features that such a locality 
 could not be expected to exhibit. 
 
 At length our horseman came to an angle 
 in the road, about a quarter of a mile from 
 the highway, which, turning sharply round, 
 opened to view a scene that inspired him with 
 the deepest interest. 
 
 A few yards in his front stood one of the 
 heavy carriages of the period, with its broad 
 side-doors forced open, and its four horses 
 brought to an abrupt halt. On the ground, 
 at the side of the road, bleeding profusely 
 from a cut on the forehead, lay a groaning 
 postilion, who appeared to be on the eve of 
 a longer journey than he had probably looked 
 for. The corpse of another man-servant was 
 stretched on the opposite side of the road, 
 and his unsheathed rapier showed that, like 
 the postilion, he had fallen unresisting. 
 Startling as these particulars were, they 
 
8 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 hardly obtained from our horseman, after he 
 had quite turned the angle, the ordinary 
 notice of a glance. A group of five persons 
 on the left of the arrested carriage immedi- 
 ately engaged his whole attention. Two of 
 these were, to judge from their appearance, 
 cavaliers of the road, or, in other words, 
 highwaymen, and had probably just dis- 
 mounted from two stout steeds hard by, 
 which were quietly cropping the grass, or 
 waste land, at the side of the road. A third 
 was an elderly personage — perhaps (for his 
 appearance bespoke him a man of rank) the 
 proprietor of the adjacent carriage — who was 
 combating the taller of these ruffians with his 
 rapier. In this contest he was assisted by 
 another person, apparently one of his do- 
 mestics ; but they were but indifferent swords- 
 men, and were hardly able to defend them- 
 selves, much less act offensively, against the 
 experienced arm of the robber. This seemed 
 to be clear to the accomplice of the latter ; 
 
HILDEBRAND. 9 
 
 for, instead of affording- him any succour, he 
 was entirely engaged with tlie fifth, and, in 
 the eyes of our horseman, most interesting 
 person of the party — a young and beautiful 
 female. His superior strength had already 
 rendered her almost powerless, when he 
 thrust his hand under the collar of her bodice, 
 in search of some triniiet, or, perhaps — for 
 it was out of sight — some more precious 
 valuable, which was suspended by a chain of 
 gold from her neck. This outrage, exceed- 
 ing any that she had hitherto sustained, drew 
 from the unhappy lady a cry of utter terror, 
 and nerved her for one last effort to break 
 from his hold. She was still struggling, when 
 the sound of a horse's feet broke on her ear, 
 and, casting a despairing glance around, her 
 eye fell on our young horseman, who, having 
 turned the an^le, had just come fully into 
 view. Her strength was by tnis time ex- 
 hausted : she saw that deliverance, which had 
 
 b3 
 
10 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 appeared hopeless, was close at hand ; and 
 she sank senseless in her assailant's arms. 
 
 The ruffian had not a moment to lose ; for 
 the horseman, he perceived at a glance, was 
 no ordinary wayfarer, and he was approach- 
 ing at a full gallop. Throwing down the 
 insensible form of the lady, he seemed to 
 deliberate, under the first effects of the sur- 
 prise, how he should meet him. His hesita- 
 tion, however, was but momentary ; for, as 
 the horseman drew nearer, he snatched a 
 pistol from his girdle, and discharged it at his 
 breast. But the ball struck the horseman in 
 the fleshy part of his left arm, and did not, 
 according to his expectations, bring bim to a 
 halt. Seeing him still advance, the robber 
 sought to meet his assault with his raised 
 rapier; but whether it was that he had ex- 
 pected it would be less vigorous, and so was 
 unprepared, or that he was an inexpert 
 swordsman, his precaution was of no avail. 
 The horseman beat down his guard directly: 
 
HILDEBRAND. 11 
 
 and with a terrific lounge, for which his long 
 cut-and-thrust sword was excellently adapted, 
 ran him through the body, pinning him to the 
 pannel of the carriage at his back. 
 
 It will readily be imagined that this new 
 incident did not transpire without attracting 
 the attention of those other characters in the 
 passing scene whom it so eminently affected. 
 The report of the pistol was the first intima- 
 tion they had of the horseman's advent ; and 
 it was ttien that the senior cavalier, turning 
 from the contest he was engaged in, perceived 
 the melancholy situation of the young lady. 
 This seemed to throw him off his guard ; for, 
 regardless of his position, he broke away from 
 the conflict with the robber, and sprang to 
 the lady's assistance. His servant was very 
 unequal to the conflict single-handed ; and 
 the robber, seeing the fate of his comrade, 
 and probably conceiving that no effort he 
 could make would alter the fortune of the 
 day, availed himself of this circumstance to 
 
12 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 retreat towards his steed, keeping the servant 
 at bay, meanwhile, though seemingly with a 
 desire to do him no hurt. 
 
 At last he reached his horse, and with a 
 dexterous lounge, he knocked his rapier out 
 of the servant's hand, and sprang unmolested 
 to his saddle.' As he gained his seat, he 
 clapped spurs to his horse, and galloped oflF. 
 
 Our young horseman was at this moment 
 withdrawing his sword from the body of the 
 fugitive's comrade. Hearing the clatter of 
 the retreating horse, he turned round ; but 
 though the robber had only a slight start of 
 him, and was no better armed than himself, 
 he showed no disposition to give him chase. 
 Seemingly satisfied with having driven him 
 ofiF, he proceeded to tender his assistance, in 
 another character, to the still helpless lady. 
 
 The lady was reclining in the arms of the 
 elderly individual before noticed. She was, 
 as has been remarked, still insensible ; but if 
 her position was calculated to obscure and 
 
HILDEBRAND. 13 
 
 veil over the attributes of her mind, it was 
 well adapted to display the exquisite graces 
 of her person. Though slie could hardly 
 have arrived at her eighteenth summer, she 
 had evidently attained her full height, and 
 was progressing towards that development of 
 contour, or general outline, which is the 
 most glorious indication of female maturity. 
 But it was more in promise — more in those 
 shadowy lines which were yet hardly re- 
 vealed, but which were still replete with grace 
 and excellence — that the beauty of her person 
 chiefly consisted. The hundred dazzling 
 charms that marked the mould and perfect- 
 ness of her limbs, though distinctly visible, 
 were not of that character which can be de- 
 fined ; and they existed more as a whole than 
 individually, and with a seeming hold and 
 dependence on each other. There was, how- 
 ever, little of buoyancy in her most engaging 
 countenance. Whether it was the effect of 
 her swoon, or of some deeper cause, rooted 
 
14 HILDEERAND. 
 
 in the past, her features wore a stamp of 
 gravity beyond her years, but which might 
 arise from a habit of reflection, as much as 
 from any spring of disappointment or sorrow. 
 Her complexion was dark, yet so beautifully 
 shaded, that it seemed to comprehend a variety 
 of tints, blended into one inseparable and 
 harmonious whole ; and this gave it a force 
 of expression, and a sweetness of tone, truly 
 charming. Her raven-black hair, disarranged 
 by her recent struggle, had burst the restraints 
 imposed upon it by her toilet, and fell loosely 
 over her fair cheeks and neck, as if it sought, 
 by this close and striking proximity, to be 
 compared with the whiteness of her heaving 
 bosom. 
 
 The personage who supported her was, as 
 was heretofore observed, considerably her 
 senior. He was tall in stature, and, notwith- 
 standing a slight stoop in his shoulders — pro- 
 bably the bend of age — dignified in his bear- 
 ing. His countenance had once been hand- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 15 
 
 some, and was still noble ; and though there 
 was an air of sternness, approaching to 
 austerity, about his forehead, the general 
 expression of his features was gentle and 
 kindly. As he gazed in the lady's face, he 
 betrayed the deepest emotion, and appeared, 
 on a cursory glance, to have no sense of what 
 was passing around, but to be engrossed 
 solely by his fears for the unconscious being 
 whom he supported. He was yet bending 
 over her, anxiously watching for the first 
 return of sensibility, when the cavalier by 
 whom they had been so effectually succoured, 
 having dismounted from his horse, and given 
 it over to the care of the servant, came up 
 with him. 
 
 " Hath the lady sustained any hurt. Sir?" 
 he inquired. 
 
 At this moment the young lady, as if aroused 
 by his voice, opened her eyes, and looked up. 
 
 " Is it thou, father ?" she said, addressing 
 the personage who supported her. " Thou 
 art not hurt, then .'"' 
 
16 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 " Not in the least, my dear child," replied 
 her father. 
 
 " And are we free ?" said the young lady, 
 eagerly looking round. 
 
 " Quite, quite," answered the old man ; 
 ** and, under Heaven, we owe our deliverance 
 to this gentleman." 
 
 " We owe him a great debt, then," said 
 the lady, raising herself up. "1 hope, Sir," 
 she added, speaking to the cavalier alluded 
 to, " we may live long enough to show, by 
 our future actions, that we shall ever remem- 
 ber it." 
 
 As she gained an erect position, she drew 
 off her glove, and offered the cavalier her 
 small hand. He seized it eagerly, and with 
 a gentle inclination of his head, suitable to 
 the occasion, raised it to his lips. 
 
 *' 'T were but a poor compliment, Sir," 
 observed the elderly cavalier, following up 
 what had been said by his daughter, '* to say 
 thou hast my hearty thanks. Thou hast 
 
HILDEBRAND. 17 
 
 given me more than life ; and what is there in 
 its gift, much less in an old man's voice, 
 that can balance such service as this?" 
 
 *' I* faith, fair Sir, thou ratest my help too 
 high," replied the person addressed. " 'Twas 
 no more than any other honest stranger would 
 have lent thee." 
 
 " 'Tis very few would risk life and limb for 
 absolute strangers, brave Sir," rejoined the 
 previous speaker. " But we may be less 
 strangers, if it so please thee, in time to 
 come." 
 
 " If that be thy mind, fair Sir," said the 
 other, " it will be a right welcome thing to 
 me, though my stay in this land will not be 
 for long." 
 
 " Thou art not a foreigner ?" said the 
 elderly cavalier, in a tone of half inquiry, half 
 doubt. *« But 1 should tell thee who I am. 
 My name is Sir Edgar de Neville ; and this 
 fair lady, to whom thou hast given more than 
 her life, is my only child." 
 
18 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 If Sir Edgar furnished tiiis information with 
 the view of ascertaining the name and rank 
 of his deliverer, preparatory to entering more 
 fully on those friendly relations which he had 
 just opened, and had invited him to extend, 
 the result must have disappointed him ; for 
 the cavalier, whatever was his motive, did 
 not disclose these particulars, but rather 
 answered him evasively. 
 
 " Mine is a happy fortune," he said, " that 
 hath won two such friends. But this fair lady 
 hath need of repose, Sir Edgar. I have some 
 small matters to settle at the village of Lant- 
 well ; and will be your escort, if you will 
 give me leave, as far as your lodge, which I 
 can make to fall in my w^ay." 
 
 " Thou knowest Neville Grange, then. 
 Sir ?" inquired Sir Edgar. 
 
 *' 'Tis many years since I was in this part 
 afore," said the cavalier, slightly colouring ; 
 " but I once knew it right well." 
 
 " We will not claim thine escort only, 
 
HILDEBRAND. 19 
 
 then," returned Sir Edgar ; *' but, while thine 
 affairs hold thee at Lantwell, thy fair com- 
 pany also, an* thou wilt give us leave." 
 
 As the cavalier was about to reply, he 
 caught a glance from the dark eyes of Miss 
 de Neville, seeming, by the warmth and kind- 
 liness of its expression, to second the invita- 
 tion of her father ; and, repressing the answer 
 which he had been about to make, and which 
 was probably of a negative character, he 
 replied with a bow of acquiescence. 
 
 Preparations were therefore made for en- 
 tering once more on their journey. The 
 wounded postilion, who, it was now dis- 
 covered, was but slightly hurt, had his fore- 
 head bound up, and was then able to mount 
 his horse, and resume the duties of his post. 
 The dead servant, with the corpse of the 
 robber, was drawn to one side of the road, 
 and there left till, on Sir Edgar's arrival home, 
 a suitable means of removing them could be 
 procured. Sir Edgar and his fair daughter 
 
20 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 took their places in the carriage ; and their 
 deliverer, and the old servant, who was en- 
 tirely unhurt, mounted their horses, and rode 
 slowly along on either side of that vehicle. 
 
 While the party thus pursued their way, 
 each individual was too busily occupied by 
 his thoughts to seek to open a conversation. 
 Indeed, the young cavalier, however his 
 thoughts might have been engaged, was more 
 seriously unfitted for the amenities of dis- 
 course. In the excitement of the rescue, the 
 pistol-wound he had received in his arm, at 
 his first appearance on the scene of action, 
 had not been heeded ; but now that he had 
 ceased to be physically employed, and was, 
 to a certain extent, left to himself, its violent 
 throbs became most painfully sensible. The 
 hoemorrhage appeared to be slight ; for his 
 murrey-coloured jerkin, except round the 
 hole where the ball had entered, was hardly 
 soiled; yet he could feel the ball burning in 
 the middle of his arm. He tied his scarf 
 
HILDEBRAND. 
 
 21 
 
 tightly over it, thinking that, by its pressure 
 on the part affected, this would mitigate the 
 dreadful throes by which it was every mo- 
 ment convulsed. But the angry wound 
 throbbed as before, and the blood in his arm, 
 from his shoulder downward, seemed to rage 
 and boil, and, as it gurgled round the wound, 
 to burn like liquid fire. 
 
 In this manner he rode along for about two 
 miles, continually hoping, at every successive 
 wind in the apparently interminable lane, to 
 come up w ith some farm-house, or peasant's 
 cottage, where he could procure a drink of 
 water. But no prospect of relief presented 
 itself, and be was about to avow his utter 
 inability to proceed, when, looking round, 
 he perceived that the road was approaching 
 a gate, with a porter's lodge just visible over 
 the fence, which he recalled to mind as the 
 entrance to Neville Grange. The ^carriage 
 came to a halt the next moment ; and the 
 mounted servant, who had been riding on the 
 
22 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 inner side of the carriage, nearest to the gate, 
 spurred forward a few paces, and rang the 
 lodge-bell. The young cavalier felt a dizzi- 
 ness come over him at this juncture ; and 
 drawing his horse up, within a pace or two 
 of the carriage, he staggered in his saddle, 
 and fell back against the carriage-door. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 The estate called Neville Grange, the resi- 
 dence of Sir Edgar de Neville, embraced an 
 extensive park, and a roomy and commo- 
 dious mansion. This latter was evidently a 
 recent erection, and had probably succeeded, 
 since the accession of the present proprietor, 
 to one of some antiquity. It was an unpre- 
 tending structure, but was rendered im- 
 portant by its size, which, with its situation, 
 marked it as the residence of a person of con- 
 sequence. Its date was as clearly indicated 
 by its material — the red brick then in use — 
 as by its style, which was of that substantial 
 
24 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 yet stately caste called Elizabethan. It stood 
 on the summit of a gentle acclivity, with its 
 rear and sides, the least finished parts of the 
 building", enclosed by umbrageous trees, and 
 the front commanding a view of the whole 
 extent of the park. 
 
 Sir Edgar de Neville, the present pro- 
 prietor, had become possessed of the Grange 
 on the death of his father, towards the latter 
 end of the reign of Mary. He had previously, 
 while attending on the king-consort, Philip, 
 in Spain, married a Spanish lady, who brought 
 him little dower but her beauty, and, what he 
 prized as highly, h^r affections. Even these 
 possessions he was not destined to enjoy long ; 
 for shortly after his accession to the family 
 estate, his lady died, leaving behind her an 
 infant daughter, a sad memento, in the pro- 
 mise furnished by her scarcely dawning 
 charms, of her own excellence and beauty. 
 
 About this time Queen Elizabeth ascended 
 the throne ; and Sir Edgar, being a Roman 
 
HILDEBRAND. 25 
 
 Catholic, and opposed to the new order of 
 things, which disqualified Roman Catholics 
 for any state office or employment, was 
 obliged to relinquish his public pursuits, and 
 retire into the contracted circle of private life. 
 But this change of fortune did not shake his 
 allegiance, or induce him to lend any coun- 
 tenance, however limited, to those treason- 
 able conspiracies which the oppressive enact- 
 ments of the new legislature occasionally 
 excited among the Roman Catholics. So 
 unexceptionable was his conduct, that none 
 of the host of spies which the jealousy of Bur- 
 leigh, the Lord-Treasurer, and chief minister 
 of Elizabeth, maintained in every part of the 
 country, had ever been able to discover 
 therein the slightest cause for mistrust or 
 suspicion. In his excessive caution, he even 
 denied himself the full exercise of his reli- 
 gion ; and many a year passed by, subse- 
 quent to the accession of Elizabeth to the 
 throne, without seeing his threshold once 
 VOL. I. c 
 
26 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 marked with the forbidden step of a 
 priest. 
 
 Thus he lived secluded for a considerable 
 period ; but ultimately, after a lapse of some 
 years, he was joined in his retirement by a 
 Spanish gentleman, named Don Felix diCorva, 
 to whom he was related, through his deceased 
 wife, in the degree of cousin. With this gen- 
 tleman and his daughter, the fair Evaline, he 
 was residing at the epoch which opens this 
 history. 
 
 These particulars were yet unknown to 
 the cavalier who, at great risk to himself, had 
 just rendered Sir Edgar such signal service, 
 and whom the conclusion of our last chapter 
 represented to have fallen in a swoon. On 
 recovering his senses, he found himself dis- 
 posed in a comfortable bed, in an upper 
 chamber of Sir Edgar's mansion. A skilful 
 chirurgeon, whose residence was hard by, 
 and whom a mounted servant had brought 
 express to the mansion, stood by his bedside, 
 
HILDEBRAND. 2? 
 
 and Sir Edgar himself was watching anxiously 
 for his recovery. Directly this took place, 
 the chirurgeon, with the promptitude of an 
 alert practitioner, examined the wound in his 
 arm, and, with little difficulty, succeeded in 
 drawing forth the bullet. That effected, he 
 carefully dressed the wound, and the cavalier, 
 at his suggestion, was then left to repose. 
 
 The pain of the wound, yielding to the 
 soothing influence of the dressing, which met 
 the heated blood with a refreshing coolness, 
 had materially abated, but still the cavalier 
 could not dispose himself to sleep. Relieved 
 from bodily pain, his mind, which physical 
 suffering had hitherto kept in subjection, be- 
 gan to bestir itself, and led him into such a 
 conflict of thought, as amounted, in the end, 
 almost to distraction. Hour succeeded hour, 
 and yet his eyes, in spite of his utmost efforts 
 to obtain rest, remained unsealed, and his 
 senses alive to the finest perception. Thoughts 
 arose unbidden, and almost against his will, 
 
 c 2 
 
28 flILDEBRAND. 
 
 from the deepest recesses of his heart, with 
 recollections of the past, and fears of the 
 future, in which he had to play a most peril- 
 ous part, all mingled together. Yet this 
 state of mind, if bodily suffering was not its 
 actual source, did spring partly from his 
 wound, and the peculiar excitement attend- 
 ing its infliction, though it was mainly caused 
 by an untimely contemplation of his personal 
 prospects. The same object continued to 
 engage his attention, in every variety of 
 shape, and under every possible aspect, 
 till he was overtaken by exhaustion, and 
 then — and not till then — did he fall 
 asleep. 
 
 It was yet early in the morning when he 
 awoke. He was surprised to find, on becoming 
 completely awake, that his wound now gave 
 him no pain ; and he was able to rise without 
 inconvenience. A small handbell, which stood 
 on a chair beside his bed, brought an aged 
 domestic to his chamber, and, with the assist- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 29 
 
 ance of this individual, he entered on his toilet, 
 and was soon fully attired. 
 
 Learning that neither Sir Edg-ar nor his 
 daughter had yet risen, he left word with the 
 servant, for their information, that he should 
 take a stroll in the park, and return to meet 
 them at the breakfast-table. With this inti- 
 mation, he descended to the hall, and thence, 
 finding the halj-door open, passed into the 
 park. 
 
 As he gazed inquisitively round, his eye 
 fell on a walk that, from its being hedged in by 
 tall shrubs, wore a more secluded look than 
 the others ; and, whether for this reason, or 
 because it was the nearest, he bent his steps 
 thitherwards. 
 
 He did not pass into the walk without 
 being observed. He had taken but a few 
 paces, when a man's head, shrouded in a 
 slouched hat, was cautiously raised from the 
 adjacent shrubs, and fixed so as to view him 
 without discovering itself. Whether he was 
 
30 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 or was not alive to the objects around, this 
 escaped his observation ; and probably in an 
 excess of self-confidence, not caring to be 
 observed, or fearing to be molested, he passed 
 along without contracting any suspicion that 
 he was watched and followed. 
 
 Thus he proceeded till the walk was 
 crossed, at some little distance from the 
 mansion, by a public footpath, which opened 
 to him on either side a view through the 
 trees. But though the scene here presented 
 had many points of attraction, only one ob- 
 ject seemed, by its seizure of his attention, 
 to inspire him with interest. This was the 
 spire of a village church, which was just 
 visible over a wood-crowned hill, or emi- 
 nence, about a mile distant. 
 
 It was a pleasing feature in the landscape, 
 and was calculated, by its upland situation, 
 to attract the attention of any spectator ; but 
 the cavalier appeared to regard it with some 
 emotion. As he continued to gaze upon it, 
 
HILDEBKAND. 31 
 
 his face assumed a graver aspect, and the 
 thoughts which were passing through his 
 mind, evidently with pain, partly found ut- 
 terance. 
 
 ** Why not go there now ? '* he said. " 'Tis 
 but a short walk, and I shall be back, if I 
 make no delay, before they come down to 
 breakfast. I will even go." 
 
 With these words, he passed ofif the park- 
 walk, and struck into the path that, with 
 occasional curvatures, led across the park 
 towards the point he had been viewing. He 
 walked at a smart pace, and shortly arrived 
 at the base of the hill, which presented a less 
 steep ascent, and a more level road, every 
 step. The road, taken from this point, 
 wound through a small wood, now teeming 
 with verdure, and apparently alive with the 
 notes that, as the traveller passed along, 
 broke through the foliage from a hundred 
 birds. Towards the summit the wood broke 
 abruptly off, leaving the country, which was 
 
32 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 spread around like a garden, open on one 
 side, and revealing a prospect of great extent 
 and variety. Of this, however, we have to 
 deal with only one feature — the church, which 
 stood on an area immediately in front of the 
 wood, on the right-hand side of the road. 
 It was surrounded, according to the imme- 
 morial custom, with a burial-ground, enclosed 
 by a sunken wall, which escaped observation 
 till one had almost approached its brink. 
 An old culvert, mantled with moss, opened 
 from the road to the churchyard gate, from 
 which a path led past the church porch to a 
 gate at the further end. Over this the cava- 
 lier bent his way, and, with an increased sad- 
 ness of aspect, passed over the graves to the 
 back of the church, and there came to a stand. 
 He turned his eyes hastily over the graves 
 around, but only one of the several before 
 him fixed his attention. This was, like the 
 others, covered with green turf; but, unlike 
 the others, it was also marked by two white 
 
HILDEBRAND. 33 
 
 posts, one at the head, and the other at the 
 foot, which were surmounted by a board, 
 bearing this inscription : — 
 
 The eyes of the cavalier filled with tears 
 as they fell on this expressive memorial, yet 
 there was mingled with his grief, in the con- 
 traction of his arched brow, more than a 
 shade of anger. Bat it speedily subsided, 
 and with a quick step, he passed by the two 
 or three graves that intervened, and, advanc- 
 ing to the one indicated, he threw himself on 
 the turf before the grave-post, and buried 
 his face in his hands. 
 
 Several minutes transpired before he looked 
 up ; and his face, though still impressed with 
 an air of dejection, was then more composed, 
 and his eyes less clouded. Casting a glance 
 around, he perceived that, though his im- 
 
 c 3 
 
34 HILDEBRAJ^D. 
 
 pression had been otherwise, he was not the 
 only inmate of the churchyard, as a man 
 stood on the path before him who shared in 
 the possession. He was of the middle degree 
 of stature, stoutly built, and apparently, to 
 judge from his already grizzled hair, about 
 forty years of age. His countenance might 
 in early life have been prepossessing ; but 
 either from care or dissipation, or perhaps 
 from both, it was now haggard and stern, 
 and calculated more to excite suspicion, than 
 to command respect. There was, too, an 
 unnatural brilliancy in his eye, which, taken 
 in connection with his shaggy brows, and 
 long and neglected locks, that peeped out 
 from the brim of his slouched hat, imparted 
 to his looks an excessiv^e wildness, very far 
 from being becoming. The impressions created 
 by these causes were confirmed, to a certain 
 extent, by his attire, which was slovenly and 
 mean, and betokened no less an acquaintance 
 with poverty, than a habit of neglecting and 
 
HILDEBRAND. 35 
 
 contemning the most essential duties of the 
 toilet. 
 
 Directly this person, on his turning round 
 from the grave, incurred his notice, our 
 young cavalier sprang to his feet, and, with 
 some degree of chagrin, prepared to retire 
 from the churchyard. Before he could 
 carry his design into effect, however, or had 
 even taken a single step towards its execu- 
 tion, the intruder interposed, and, by a few 
 
 brief words, made him pause. 
 
 " What ho ! Master Hildebrand, is it thou 
 1 have been dogging so close ? " he said. 
 
 The cavalier, though evidently taken some- 
 what aback, turned a glance of earnest in- 
 quiry on the speaker, and, after a moment's 
 pause, replied — " Thou knowest me ?" 
 
 ** 'Tis more than ten years since I last saw 
 thee," answered the other, ** and thou hadst 
 then, if I mind me truly, scarcely seen thy 
 fourteenth summer, and yet I remember thee 
 right well." 
 
36 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 *' By my troth, thy face strikes me fami- 
 Harly," resumed the cavalier ; " but I need 
 hardly go back so far, methinks, to call it to 
 my remembrance. Thou mayst thank thy 
 horse that he showed me good heels last 
 night, or thou would st now, mayhap, have 
 been less at thine ease than thou seemest 
 to be." 
 
 The robber — for he was one of the two 
 robbers who had attacked Sir Edgar de 
 Neville on the previous evening —faintly 
 smiled as he replied, — *' And does thy me- 
 mory bear thee no further back, Master Hil- 
 debrand ? What the good year ! can such a 
 brief time as this, which has barely made thee 
 a man, efface the memories of a whole boy- 
 hood ? Then, in good sooth, Master Hilde- 
 brand, I am not the man to claim thy ac- 
 quaintance.*' 
 
 " Hold! " exclaimed the cavalier, springing 
 forward, and seizing the robber by the arm ; 
 " thou seemest to know me, and, by my con- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 37 
 
 science, now I behold thee nearer, thy face 
 doth strike me like an old friend's; who art 
 thou ? " 
 
 " When thy poor old father," answered 
 the robber, with some emotion, " had been 
 burned for heresy, in the reign of scarlet 
 Mary, it was my hands laid his ashes in 
 yonder grave. When your mother was house- 
 less, with shame on her brow, and the pang 
 of sorrow in her heart, it was I gave her a 
 refuge, and held her safe from the hellish 
 Papists. When her saintly heart beat its last, 
 it was my hands laid her there, by the side of 
 your father. Nay, hear me out! I cherished 
 thee, their offspring : such lore as I had 
 knowledge of I taught thee, and would, in 
 time, have had thee better taught ; but — " 
 
 ** You lost me, good Bernard," said the 
 cavalier, seizing him by the hand. 
 
 " Nay, I'll not clasp thy hand,'* said the 
 robber, though at the same time suffering 
 the cavalier to take his hand up. " Thy hand 
 
B8 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 has met the clasp of Papists ; and by my 
 sweet Saviour, whom they once made me 
 deny, mine never shall." 
 
 " Nay, good Bernard Gray, this is hardly 
 honest," said the cavalier, in a tone of re- 
 monstrance. " By my faith, I did not seek 
 the Nevilles ; I was seeking thee, not them, 
 when they fell unhappily in my way. I did 
 but help the weaker side." 
 
 *« Was it any concern of thine ?" demanded 
 the man called Bernard Gray, his eyes light- 
 ing up with the fiercest enthusiasm. *' Am I 
 to be thwarted in my revenges by thee ? " 
 
 " 'Twas not the Nevilles, Bernard, Papists 
 though they be, that burned my father," said 
 the cavalier. 
 
 "Be they not of the devil's flock?*' re- 
 turned Bernard. " But though it hath cost 
 me my comrade's life, let it pass now; and 
 tell me, if thou canst, what ill deed of mine 
 led thee to run away from me." 
 
 "Alas! Bernard, I never ran from thee," 
 
HILDEBRAND. 39 
 
 answered the cavalier ; " I was forced away, 
 and carried oflf, against my will, to the new 
 plantations. Thence 1 finally escaped, and, 
 getting on shipboard, became a mariner. I 
 have prospered on the seas, and am now, I 
 thank Heaven, well to do in the world." 
 
 " Forced away, saidst thou ? " rejoined 
 Bernard. " This must be honest Master 
 Shedlock's work." 
 
 ♦'He was secure of my patrimony," ob- 
 served the cavalier, "yet would he have made 
 me a slave." 
 
 " And a bastard,'' muttered Bernard. 
 " Even so," answered the cavalier. 
 " But he may be foiled yet," resumed Ber- 
 nard. '* Where art thou staying ? " 
 
 " With the Nevilles," replied the cavalier, 
 with some hesitation ; *' but 'tis only for a 
 day or two. In a week, at furthest, I must 
 be gone." 
 
 ** I would rather thou didst not eat the salt 
 of Papists," said Bernard ; ** but for a day or 
 
40 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 two let it be so. 1 shall be on the watch, and 
 will see thee again, by some means or other, 
 before long. Meanwhile, fare thee well !'' 
 
 " Farewell, Bernard !" answfered the cava- 
 lier, extending his hand. 
 
 They shook hands, and parted. Bernard 
 took his way towards the neighbouring wood ; 
 and the cavalier, without once looking be- 
 hind, turned to the high-road, and walked 
 leisurely homewards. 
 
 Though his recent conversation with Ber- 
 nard had shown him to be cordially attached 
 to that person, it must not be supposed that 
 this reconciled him, in the least degree, to the 
 unlawfulness and violence of Bernard's pur- 
 suits. What was the precise nature of those 
 pursuits he did not know ; but a sufficiency 
 had been revealed to him, in the affair of the 
 previous evening, to bespeak them unlawful, 
 and even to stain them with the crying guilt 
 of blood. This was a melancholy recollec- 
 tion, and, only that past obligations had 
 
HILDEBRAND. 41 
 
 taught him to look upon Bernard as his best 
 friend, it would have been impossible for him, 
 with the principles he entertained, to have 
 maintained any correspondence with that in- 
 dividual, whatever prospect of ultimate good 
 or advantage it might have held out to him- 
 self. But though his dependence on Ber- 
 nard was almost unalienable, it was for the 
 great debt which he already owed him, and 
 which was bound up with the deepest feel- 
 ings of his heart, that he continued to regard 
 him as his truest friend. He knew, too, that 
 Bernard had embarked in the enterprise 
 against Sir Edgar Neville more from motives 
 of revenge, which, however mistaken, had 
 sprung originally from a cruel and over- 
 whelming provocation, than from a desire of 
 spoil ; and this considerably lessened his de- 
 testation, if we may use such a strong term, 
 of his recent outrage. 
 
 On his arrival at Neville Grange, Hilde- 
 brand Clifford — for so the cavalier was named 
 
42 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 — found that Sir Edgar and his daughter had 
 now descended to the breakfast-room. By 
 them he was introduced to the third member 
 of the family, Don Felix di Corva, who, as 
 has before been set forth, was a Spaniard by 
 birth, and related to Sir Edgar's deceased 
 wife in the degree of cousin. 
 
 Don Felix was a youthful-looking man, of 
 a slight figure, and about the middle height. 
 His complexion was dark, yet not of that 
 sparkling darkness which we associate with 
 the young faces of his country, but rather of 
 a sallow tint, such as, in many instances, 
 arises from long confinement, or from an un- 
 certain and delicate state of health. His dark 
 eyes, too, though brilliant, were rather subtle 
 than deep, and more indicative of cunning, 
 than denotive of penetration. On a first 
 meeting, however, and to an individual who 
 did not found impressions on the illusive and 
 equivocal testimony of personal appearance, 
 these unfavourable points in his ensemble 
 
HILDEBRAND. 43 
 
 raighl have escaped notice ; but Don Felix, 
 by an unlucky fate, inherited a large share of 
 the pride and coldness of several generations 
 of ancestors, and these imparted to his man- 
 ners a reserve and formality, that invited at- 
 tention to his every defect. 
 
 But though his disposition did not gene- 
 rally incline him to form new acquaintances, 
 he received Hildebrand, on this occasion, with 
 every mark of courtesy and respect. After 
 the first interchange of compliments had been 
 despatched, he inquired anxiously concern- 
 ing the state of his wound, and expressed 
 himself gratified, in common with his two 
 relations, that it promised so fairly to be 
 shortly healed. As the conversation passed 
 to ordinary topics, he seemed, it is true, to 
 shrink more into himself ; but his reserve was 
 less noticeable in the general animation, and 
 thus escaped remark. 
 
 The meal over. Sir Edgar announced his 
 intention of visiting a neighbouring magis- 
 
44 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 trate, named Shedlock (to whom this history 
 has before had occasion to allude), for the 
 purpose of acquainting him with the particu- 
 lars of the affair of the preceding evening. 
 Don Felix accompanied him ; and Hildebrand 
 and the fair Evaline, who had already become 
 fast friends, were left to entertain each other 
 till their return. 
 
 To two persons of their turn of mind this 
 was an easy and most agreeable employment. 
 Hildebrand could tell, not only of strange 
 landsf but of a strange world — of the new 
 hemisphere, which, by the perseverance of a 
 few daring adventurers, had just been opened 
 to the enterprise of Europe, and added to the 
 limits of the earth. Evaline could listen, ques- 
 tion, and smile her gratification : the relation of 
 " the dangers he had passed,'* both by flood 
 and field, and under every variety of fortune, 
 unfolded to her view a new picture of life and 
 an enlarged idea of human character. On 
 the other hand, Hildebrand, without being 
 
HILDEBRAND. 45 
 
 vain, or making himself the hero of his own 
 tale, found pleasure in relating and describing 
 those dangers, because, from the interest 
 manifested in her countenance, he saw that 
 " she did pity them." And thus, with the 
 liveliest sympathies of each engaged, the morn- 
 ing passed quickly by. and they were only 
 admonished of its flight by the return of Sir 
 Edgar and Don Felix. 
 
 They now learned that the magistrate whom 
 Sir Edgar had been to visit was not at home 
 when he called. This, however, most unfor- 
 tunately, was considered of little conse- 
 quence ; and as Sir Edgar and he were not 
 on neighbourly terms, it was determined to 
 send him a report of the late outrage in 
 writing, and there, for the present, to let the 
 matter drop. A report of this kind was ac- 
 cordingly drawn up, and transmitted, with a 
 letter from Sir Edgar, without further delay. 
 
 The day wore on without interrupting, by 
 any single incident, the harmonious relations 
 
46 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 that had begun to subsist between Hildebrand 
 and Evaline. The novelty of first acquaint- 
 ance subsided, but not its fresh and generous 
 feelings; and they continually presented to 
 each other, by some stray sentiment or ex- 
 pression, the trace of some new quality, or ap- 
 peared personally to new advantage. Yet 
 their mutual esteem grew upon them uncon- 
 sciously, and they could not tell, with any 
 accuracy, whence arose those pleasurable 
 sensations with which they almost unwittingly 
 regarded each other. 
 
 The day passed lightly off, as did the next, 
 and several succeeding days, and nothing 
 happened to disturb the general harmony. 
 But a few days served to show Hildebrand, 
 on close observation, that at least one of the 
 inmates of the mansion began to regard him 
 with displeasure. The Spaniard, Don Felix, 
 from whatever cause, evidently looked upon 
 him with jealousy and dislike. In vain did 
 Hildebrand, by a marked courtesy, endeavour 
 
HILDEBRAND. 47 
 
 to overcome this bad feeling;; the Spaniard 
 seemed desirous to avoid him, or, when he 
 could not do this, to approach him with sus- 
 picion and reluctance. 
 
 Several days had elapsed, when one evening, 
 shortly after sunset, Hiidebrand found a let- 
 ter on the table of his bed-chamber, with the 
 superscription of " Captain Hiidebrand," 
 which drew his attention to other matters. 
 The letter requested him to repair that evening 
 to the bottom of the park-walk, where the 
 public footpath, noticed in the early part of 
 this chapter, struck across the park to the 
 village of Lantwell. There, the letter set 
 forth, he would find a friend, who was desirous 
 to commune with him, pursuant to their pre- 
 vious understanding, on a matter of pressing 
 moment. 
 
 Though there was little to guide him to 
 such a conclusion, Hiidebrand rightly con- 
 jectured, from the tenor and spirit of the 
 letter, that his anonymous friend was no other 
 
48 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 than Bernard Gray ; and, therefore, he deter- 
 mined, directly he had run the letter over, to 
 set out for the spot appointed straightway. 
 
 The evening was just opening as he en- 
 tered the walk which led to the public foot- 
 way. But he was so impatient to join his 
 friend, in accordance with the request of the 
 anonymous letter, that he walked at a smart 
 pace, never thinking that he might arrive at 
 the appointed spot before he would be ex- 
 pected. As he approached the scene of the 
 appointment, one of Sir Edgar's servants — 
 the same that had assisted him to repel the 
 attack of the robbers — met and passed him ; 
 but Hildebrand was so bound up in the en- 
 terprise he had in hand, and the thoughts and 
 expectations connected with it, and to which 
 he probably attached more importance than 
 was their due, that he rendered no acknow- 
 ledgment of the servant's salute. Some 
 half-dozen paces more brought him to the 
 footway, and he turned out of the walk, 
 
HILDEBRAND. 49 
 
 and took a few steps into the open area 
 adjoining:. 
 
 A cluster of shrubs grew by the side of the 
 footway, whence they swept back, with dimi- 
 nished volume, to the park-walk, where they 
 were arrested by the tall trees with which 
 the walk was bounded. They were well 
 adapted to afford any person who sought to 
 avoid observation a secure hiding-place, but 
 they mig:ht, nevertheless, have failed to incur 
 the particular attention of Hildebrand, only 
 that a sound just now broke from them, like 
 the tread of a man's foot on dead leaves, that 
 led him to believe they were not untenanted. 
 Regarding them more attentively, he distin* 
 guished the figure of a man, wrapped in a 
 capacious cloak, crawling along between the 
 shrubs ; and the next moment Bernard Gray 
 — for he it was — confronted him. 
 
 " How farest thou, Master Bernard ?" said 
 Hildebrand, extending his hand. 
 
 ** Indifferently well," replied Bernard, ac- 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 cepting his proffered hand and clasping it 
 cordially ; " and how dost thou ?" 
 
 '' r faith, well enough in body, Bernard,** 
 answered Hildebrand, " but somewhat ill in 
 mind. Thy note came duly to hand, and, to 
 speak sooth, was but timely ; for I must leave 
 these parts to-morrow.'* 
 
 " Thou know'st my retreat,'* said Bernard, 
 " in case thou hadst not heard from me. 'Tis 
 still at the Angel." 
 
 " I should have sought thee there," replied 
 Hildebrand, 
 
 *' Dost leave here i'the morning?'* asked 
 Bernard. " I would thou couldst wait, if 
 it be possible, till thou seest me again." 
 
 " I will wait till the even,'* answered Hil- 
 debrand ; ** but what is thy purpose ?" 
 
 ** I will tell thee, first, to be of a wary 
 habit, and have a care that thou comest not 
 in the way of Master Shedlock,'* returned. 
 Bernard. " I have it on good warranty that 
 he knows thou art here.** 
 
HILDEBRAND. 51 
 
 " I fear him not," rejoined Hildebrand. 
 " But wliat wouldst thou have me stay for ?" 
 
 *« This hoary villain,'* said Bernard, " who 
 keeps thee from thy birthright of Clifford 
 Place, which he calls New Bethlehem, hath 
 a wife, who, albeit she holds him in an idola- 
 trous love, hath yet a spice of goodness in 
 her temper ; and I would have leave from 
 her to bring thee and her to a parley.*' 
 
 ** Wherefore wouldst thou this ?" asked 
 jHildebrand. 
 
 " She hath often told me," resumed Ber- 
 nard, " when I have mourned thee dead, that 
 she was assured thou wast yet living, and 
 wouldst one day return. She hath told me, 
 too, that thy mother did her a kindness years 
 ago ; and if so be that she lived to see thee, 
 she would bear it well in mind. Nay, it is 
 she that bade me warn thee now, in her name, 
 to be upon thy guard." 
 
 ** Well, I will be ruled in the matter by 
 thee, Bernard," observed Hildebrand ; " but 
 
 d2 
 
52 HILBEBRAND. 
 
 I cannot stay, mind, longer than to-morrow 
 even." 
 
 ** 1 will remember me so," answered Ber- 
 nard. 
 
 " There is one thing more I would ask of 
 thee," pursued Hildebrand. ** Hast thou 
 aught to prove that I was born in wedlock ?" 
 
 " Nothing — not a scrap," replied Bernard. 
 " There is no record of thy mother's marriage 
 in the parish-book, though I could have been 
 sworn, at one time, that 'twas duly writ there. 
 The old vicar, Father Day, who wedded her, 
 can only tell of it in heaven; for he and thy 
 father were buried together. There is no 
 living witness but myself." 
 
 " Then I am but a natural," said Hilde- 
 brand, bitterly. 
 
 " Despair not! despair not!" cried Ber- 
 nard, seizing him by the hand. *' Who shall 
 quarrel with the ways of Heaven ? Hath 
 He not said, by the mouth of His holy pro- 
 phet, that His ways are not our ways, or his 
 thoughts as our thoughts." 
 
HILDLBRAND. 53 
 
 The passion apparent in the voice of the 
 enthusiast, which was raised above its wonted 
 tone, pervaded his whole frame, and his hand 
 clasped Hildebrand's with the tightness of a 
 vice. 
 
 *' May His will be done !" said Hildebrand. 
 '* I will see thee again to-morrow, Ber- 
 nard." 
 
 " At noon, on this spot," replied Bernard ; 
 " and meanwhile be thou on thy guard 
 against Shedlock, — and fare thee well !" 
 
 ** Farewell, and do thou be guarded also I" 
 said Hildebrand, 
 
 The robber made no reply, but, silently 
 waving his hand, turned sharply round, and 
 bent his steps over the footpath towards 
 Lantwell. Hildebrand watched him till he 
 reached the boundary of the park, when he 
 also turned away, intending, though in no 
 mood for society, to return straight to the 
 mansion. 
 
 But, looking up, he perceived that the out- 
 
54 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 let of the footway, where it opened into the 
 park-walk, was occupied by two persons? 
 who, from the animosity which was manifested 
 in their looks, appeared to be disposed to 
 dispute his passage. One of these was the 
 servant whom he had encountered when on 
 his way to meet Bernard ; and the other, who 
 appeared to be the more hostile, was his host's 
 cousin, Don Felix di Corva. He immediately 
 remembered that the servant had been in 
 attendance on Sir Edgar at the time that the 
 Knight had been attacked on the road, and he 
 reflected, on a second thought, that he might 
 now have seen him in correspondence with 
 his friend Bernard, and have recognised the 
 latter as one of the two individuals by whom 
 the attack had been made. This accounted, 
 at the very tirst view, for the apparent hosti- 
 lity of Don Felix, whom the servant, no 
 doubt, in a moment of rage, had brought to 
 witness the duplicity of the family's new 
 acquaintance. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 65 
 
 Though taken by surprise, Hildebrand was 
 not confounded by this occurrence ; and 
 after a brief pause, he advanced towards the 
 two unfriendly observers with perfect confi- 
 dence. 
 
 '* A good even to thee, Senhorf he said, 
 addressing Don Felix. 
 
 *' Such deeds as thine," answered Don 
 Felix, sneeringly, *' give a savour of vileness 
 to the sweetest even. Hast thou no shame, 
 Sir, that thou canst thus meet mine eye un- 
 moved ?*' 
 
 " r faith, thou hast a foul tongue, Sir 
 Spaniard," returned Hildebrand ; ** and 
 only that thou art kinsman to good Sir 
 Edgar, I would straight clean it with my 
 rapier.** 
 
 " Let not this spoil a good disposition," 
 said Don Felix. " Draw forth thy won- 
 drous rapier; for I denounce thee, in the 
 presence of this menial, as a traitor and a 
 spy!" 
 
56 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 A flash of anger mounted to Hildebrand'g 
 cheeks at these words, and his rapier, on 
 which his grasp had already been fastened, 
 leaped from its scabbard on the instant. 
 
 " Such terms would provoke an angel 1'' 
 he said. '' Stand on thy guard !" 
 
 But the Spaniard, expecting what was to 
 follow, had already done this, and, conse- 
 quently, he met Hildebrand's assault with 
 perfect composure. Indeed, as Hildebrand 
 had not expected to find him a skilful 
 swordsman, and assailed him with some 
 impetuosity, he at first had the advantage 
 in the struggle. Directly Hildebrand per- 
 ceived this, however, he became more col- 
 lected, and a few moments served to show 
 that, at the least, he was fully equal, if 
 not superior, to his adversary. At length, 
 the latter made a lounge at his side, and 
 Hildebrand, by an adroit stroke, beat his 
 sword out of his hand, and held him quite at 
 his mercy. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 57 
 
 "Take up thy weapon, Sir!" said Hilde- 
 brand. 
 
 With this he turned away, and, thrusting his 
 sword into his scabbard, passed down the 
 walk towards the lower section of the park, 
 which was, from its greater seclusion, more 
 in keeping- with the mood that he was dis- 
 posed to indulge in. The Spaniard did not 
 follow him, and, left to himself, he had leisure 
 to dwell and ponder on the thoughts which 
 his situation was so eminently calculated to 
 inspire. 
 
 Reflect how he might, he could not allow 
 that he had done anything wrong. He was 
 disgraced, but undeservedly so ; his conduct 
 was free from dishonour, but, whatever he 
 might say, he could not make this apparent. 
 He had been seen in friendly communication 
 with a most questionable character, and he 
 could not explain, with any degree of safety, 
 how his intercourse with him was justifiable. 
 Indeed, if circumstances had even allowed 
 
 d3 
 
58 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 him to render such an explanation, he could 
 not give it any appearance of probability ; 
 and his character, instead of being cleared, 
 would only be further degraded by the at- 
 tempt to retrieve it. 
 
 Such were the mortifying reflections that 
 pressed upon the young cavalier, as he hur- 
 riedly paced the park- walk. The night drew 
 nigh, and ultimately set in ; but, insensible of 
 the influences around, he still indulged his 
 reverie, and continued to pace the same walk, 
 maintaining the same smart step, without 
 once halting. 
 
 But the night came on cold, and ultimately, 
 falling into a slower pace, the chill air aroused 
 him. He then turned away from his late walk, 
 and passed leisurely towards the mansion. 
 
 It was a dark night, and the trees over- 
 hanging the walk made his way still more 
 obscure. He passed freely on, however ; and 
 had just come within sight of the lights that 
 now marked the mansion, near the end of the 
 
HILDEBRAND. 59 
 
 walk, when a blow from a bludgeon, inflicted 
 by some person in his rear, knocked him 
 down, and stretched him senseless on the 
 ground. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 The following morning found Evaline de 
 Neville, according to her usual custom, astir 
 at an early hour. Early as it was, however, 
 she was sensible that the other members of 
 the household had been up for some time 
 previous, and that a bustle prevailed in the 
 mansion, which, to say the least of it, was not 
 customary, and might indicate an event of 
 some importance. She longed for the arrival 
 of her waiting-woman, in order that she might 
 draw from her, before she left her chamber, 
 what it was that had so disturbed the general 
 tranquillity of the Grange. But the gentle 
 
HILDEBRAND. 61 
 
 Martha FoUet, as her attendant was named, 
 was not at hand, and E valine was obliged to 
 restrain her impatience, and so to hurry her 
 toilet, with her own unaided hands, that she 
 might descend at onoe to the breakfast-room, 
 and acquire the desired information from a 
 more direct source. 
 
 She had scarcely entered on her toilet, 
 however, when the fair Martha made her 
 appearance. She was a pretty and modest- 
 looking girl, and, whether from nature, or 
 merely from the habits of her office, of a 
 bearing and presence superior to her station, 
 and to which one might, without risk of 
 contradiction, apply the explicit phrase of 
 " genteel." She had, to all appearance, 
 scarcely seen sixteen summers, yet her coun- 
 tenance was sad and mournful, and wore a 
 look of anxiety that, if it had been permanent, 
 would have sat ill on a much older person. 
 But although she was now dejected, there was 
 in her large blue eyes, under a dash of tears, 
 
62 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 a flow of radiance and animation that be- 
 spoke anything; but melancholy, and, under 
 a propitious influence, it could no doubt be 
 expanded, with more charming eff"ect, into 
 that attractive expression denominated *' arch- 
 ness." 
 
 A smile rose to the maiden's lips as she 
 approached her mistress, but it was a mourn- 
 ful one, and could not conceal the uneasiness, 
 not to say anxiety, that was manifested by her 
 other features. Evaline, surveying her ear- 
 nestly, observed her dejection at a glance. 
 
 « Why, Martha, what is amiss?" she in- 
 quired, somewhat anxiously. 
 
 '* I hope, nothing of moment, dear lady,'* 
 replied Martha. «' Master Shedlock, the 
 sheriff", is here, and some other strangers; 
 but they can do no hurt to Sir Edgar, I 
 should ween." 
 
 As she spoke, a tear rose to her eyes, and, 
 breaking over the long, silken lashes, trickled 
 down her pale cheeks. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 63 
 
 *« Master Shedlock here ?" cried Evaline, 
 in a tone of mingled surprise and alarm. 
 *« What dost thou mean, Martha ?" 
 
 " Oh, my lady," answered Martha, fairly 
 bursting into tears, *' they have accused Sir 
 Edgar of murder, and he is now a prisoner, 
 in the dining-hall." 
 
 " This almost passes belief," said Evaline, 
 turning very pale. *' Art thou sure they have 
 done this?" 
 
 '' I heard Master Shedlock affirm it to Sir 
 Edgar himself," answered Martha. *' The 
 crowner's quest, that sat on the body of the 
 dead robber, have averred that he was mur- 
 derously slain ; and Master Shedlock hath 
 seized Sir Edgar as the murderer." 
 
 " The malignant upstart!" exclaimed Eva- 
 line. " But his project, whatever it be, can 
 be easily frustrated, and made to recoil upon 
 himself. Quick, Martha ! I must not be 
 absent from my father when he is thus abused." 
 
 Martha, who only waited her mistress's 
 
64 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 directions to begin, readily entered on her 
 duties, and Evaline was soon engaged in the 
 various details of the toilet. These arranged, 
 she sprang to her feet, and, bidding Martha 
 attend her, quitted the chamber, and repaired 
 to the dining-hall. 
 
 She found the whole household collected 
 in this apartment. These, however, were not 
 the only inmates, nor was it on them that she 
 bestowed her notice. At the head of the 
 long dining-table, which passed down the 
 centre of the room, stood a group of persons 
 who first attracted her eye, and immediately 
 engaged her undivided attention. 
 
 The group consisted of her father, her 
 cousin, Don Felix di Corva, and three strang- 
 ers. Of these last, the principal was one who, 
 even wliile the spectator was ignorant of his 
 name and worth, inspired respect by his mere 
 presence. His height was full six feet, and 
 thus, by its marked pre-eminence, distin- 
 guished him from those around at the very 
 
HILDEBRAND. 65 
 
 first glance. His manly and vigorous limbs, 
 which his erect posture exhibited to advan- 
 tage, corresponded with his stature, and were 
 all fitted with exact proportion, and turned 
 with the most perfect grace. But what most 
 prepossessed the spectator in his favour was 
 his countenance, which seemed to claim for 
 him, through the medium of its various fea- 
 tures, not only the respect which should be 
 paid to the best qualities of the heart, but the 
 veneration which is due to loftiness of intel- 
 lect. He was attired in costly habits, fitted 
 to his person with great care, and indicating, 
 by the harmony of their colours, and the 
 simple elegance of their design, the nicest 
 and most refined taste. 
 
 By his side stood a person who appeared to 
 greater disadvantage, perhaps, from his proxi- 
 mity to so much excellence. He was a short, 
 spare man ; but, for his years — which were 
 somewhat beyond fifty — looked hale and 
 healthy. If the countenance of his compa- 
 
66 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 nion, the cavalier just described, was his 
 greatest recommendation, that of this indi- 
 vidual embraced his most prominent defects. 
 His forehead was low ; and, from his wearing 
 his scanty locks closely cropped, looked much 
 lower than it really was : his eyes were small 
 and piercing-j and, when they were raised from 
 the table (which was not often), were continu- 
 ally twisting about, like a ferret's ; his nose 
 was long, and sharp, and turned up at the 
 end ; and his mouth, especially when com- 
 pressed, seemed to stretch right across his 
 face, and to form a sort of pitfall, if one may 
 so speak, beneath his high cheek-bones. 
 Unlike his companion, he was attired in grave 
 garments, which were cut with great form- 
 ality ; but, whether from haste, or from 
 habit, had been put on in the most careless 
 manner, and evidently by a hand, whatever 
 actuated it, that deemed any labour of the 
 toilet irksome and unprofitable. 
 
 The third stranger was almost equal in 
 
HILDEBRAND. 67 
 
 stature to the one first described. In all 
 other respects, however, he was decidedly 
 singular, and bore no resemblance to any 
 one person present. His figure was so lean, 
 and, at the same time, so tall, that he looked 
 like a shadow, and scarcely appeared to 
 possess sufiicient strength to maintain his own 
 balance. His face was small, and emaciated, 
 and was by no means improved, if it were 
 not greatly disfigured, by the manner in 
 which he wore his long red hair, which was 
 combed down over his forehead, and made 
 his face look little larger than a good-sized 
 boy*s. Like the cavalier before named, he 
 was clad in grave habits, of a close and 
 formal cut, and a fashion long defunct ; but, 
 to judge from their scanty dimensions, they 
 were not his own, and he seemed to have 
 been driven into them by main force. 
 
 Evaline, after a first glance at his face, re- 
 cognised this individual as the sheriff's clerk, 
 and the short, puritanical person at his side, 
 
HILDEBRAND. 
 
 whom we have described at some length 
 before, as Master Shedlock, the sheriff. Who 
 the third person was, or whether he was as- 
 sociated with Shedlock, or was a friend of 
 her father, she could not conceive. But she 
 had not time to form many conjectures on 
 this point ; for, just as she gained the head of 
 tlie table, a few words from Shedlock, ad- 
 dressed to the cavalier in question, made her 
 understand his exact position. 
 
 " I am right glad, Sir Walter,*' observed 
 Shedlock, in a whining tone, " that thou 
 didst happen to be present when this paper 
 was brought to me. See here !" and he un- 
 rolled a scrap of paper which he had in his 
 hand: "the poor murdered Samaritan, whom 
 the sons of Belial call a robber, was held 
 trustworthy by my Lord Treasurer, the light 
 and horn of Israel. This paper was found in 
 his pouch, and is a warranty, beyond all 
 question, of his perfect honesty. Read it, 
 sirrah ! " and he handed the paper to his 
 clerk. 
 
HILDEBRAND. W 
 
 The clerk, with a humble reverence, caught 
 up the paper, and, in the same whining tone 
 as his master, read from it these words : — 
 
 " The bearer is in my employ. 
 
 " W. Burleigh." 
 
 As Evaline heard this announcement, she 
 turned her eyes on her father, and observed 
 that, though strongly marked with indigna- 
 tion, his face betrayed considerable anxiety. 
 She felt her own heart quake, but, in her 
 concern for her parent, she suppressed her 
 personal fears, and affected to appear com- 
 posed. She then stepped forward to the side 
 of Sir Edgar, and, laying her hand on his 
 arm, made him aware of her presence and 
 vicinity. 
 
 '* Be under no fear, my child," said Sir 
 Edgar, perceiving her. Our innocence, I 
 thank Heaven, can be clearly established, 
 and these worthy gentlemen will then depart 
 satisfied.'* 
 
70 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 " I hope it may so turn out, Sir," observed 
 the cavalier called Sir Walter. " But where 
 is the person who, according to thy report, 
 did this man to death." 
 
 " Hast thou sought him, Adam V demanded 
 Sir Edgar of a servant who stood behind him. 
 
 The servant, with some savour of embarrass- 
 ment, glanced anxiously at Don Felix di 
 Corva, and made no reply. Don Felix, how- 
 ever, came to his rescue. 
 
 *« He has not been seen since last even," 
 he said. 
 
 " 'Tis strange," remarked Sir Walter, *' that 
 he should thus absent himself, at a time when 
 his evidence was sure to be called for, with- 
 out communicating with his host. But who 
 is he ?" 
 
 « Thou wilt hardly believe. Sir, that I can- 
 not tell thee," answered Sir Edgar, with an 
 appearance of confusion ;" but I do not even 
 know his name." 
 
 The person called Sir Walter, who had 
 
HILDEBRAND. 71 
 
 hitherto seemed to regard the investigation 
 with scarcely any concern, looked graver on 
 receiving this answer, and apparently began 
 to think the matter somewhat important. 
 There was a brief pause before he spoke 
 again. 
 
 " I fear me," he then said, addressing Sir 
 Edgar, *' we must issue our warrant for thine 
 arrest.'* 
 
 '* Surely, this cannot be ! " exclaimed Sir 
 Edgar, indignantly. *' The law, be it ever 
 so cruel, durst not sanction such violence as 
 this.'' 
 
 " Forbear ! forbear, malignant ! " cried 
 Shedlock. " Art thou not a murderer? '* 
 
 ** Peace, Sir Sherifif ! " said Sir Walter. 
 *' 'Tis not for us to decide on the gentleman's 
 guilt. He must to prison ; but 'tis on mere 
 suspicion." 
 
 " To prison. Sir?" cried Sir Edgar. " This 
 must be jest. An English justice, methinks, 
 durst not commit such a stretch of authority." 
 
72 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 " God forbid 1 should exceed the law," 
 answered Sir Walter; " but it bears on thee, 
 as a Papist, with terrible severity . T speak not 
 to offend ; but the last bull of the Bishop of 
 Rome, wherein our gracious Queen is termed 
 a usurper, and her Popish subjects, to whom 
 she hath been so gentle a mistress, urged to 
 assail her sacred life, makes us view all 
 Papists with notable jealousy. An emissary of 
 my Lord Treasurer is found dead on the road, 
 and, thou sayest, was slain in attacking thy 
 litter ; but even if thy tale be true, he may 
 have attacked thee, not from a desire of spoil 
 (which is anent to all reason and likelihood), 
 but to seize thee in some act of treason. The 
 very person who slew him, for aught we 
 know, may have been a seminary priest, and 
 so already condemned to the gibbet." 
 
 " This is monstrous ! " cried Sir Edgar, 
 passionately. 
 
 *' Peace, malignant ! " exclaimed Shedlock. 
 
 "Peace thou, Sir Sheriff!'* answered Sir 
 
HILDEBRAND. 73 
 
 Edgar; "and remember, though power may 
 abet thee now, a day of reckoning will come, 
 when thou shalt be called to account." 
 
 *' Aha ! dost thou threaten me ? " replied 
 Shedlock. '* Thou thinkest to see the day, 
 then, when the Papist faction shall hold the 
 powers of the state ? But surely the Lord 
 will protect his people ! O ! my trust is in 
 the Lord, and he is mighty to deliver his 
 saints!" 
 
 '* Enough, Master Shedlock," observed Sir 
 Walter, impatiently. " 'Tis our duty, from 
 what we have heard, to send this gentleman 
 to prison ; but we have no warrant to give 
 him any offence." 
 
 Evaline, who had listened anxiously to the 
 whole of the preceding dialogue, heard these 
 last words with a mingled sense of dejection 
 and hope — dejection that her father should 
 be dragged so ignominiously from his home; 
 and hope, abetted by what had passed, that 
 Sir Walter might still be their friend, and 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 leave him at large. Though of a timorous 
 temper, this hope emboldened her, in the 
 pressure and excitement of the crisis, to step 
 somewhat forward, and by a timely interces- 
 sion, seek to secure Sir Walter's good offices. 
 
 " Is there no resource, Sir," she said, in a 
 tone of deep anguish, '« but my father must 
 go to prison ? He is innocent — indeed, in- 
 deed, he is ! " 
 
 Sir Walter looked on her so intently, that 
 he seemed, for the first moment or two, to 
 be reading her very heart ; but the fair girl, 
 whom such a gaze would have confounded 
 at another time, was affected too deeply by 
 her sorrow to be moved by his survey. Her 
 dark eyes, which were wont to beam with 
 tranquil joy, were still turned imploringly 
 on his, and her face remained deadly pale, as 
 if the mournful expression that hung over it 
 braced and locked up every feature. 
 
 " I do believe thee, lady," answered Sir 
 Walter, in a kind tone; *' but there is, un- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 75 
 
 happily, no resource. Thy father must to 
 prison, but, if it please thee, thou mayst bear 
 him company to Exeter, and there, at thy 
 convenience, have free access to his pre- 
 sence." 
 
 There was little mitigation of the first sen- 
 tence in this ; but the assurance that she 
 might bear her father company, and, when- 
 ever she felt inclined, share the discomforts 
 of his prison, was not without a soothing in- 
 fluence. She thanked Sir Walter for his ur- 
 banity ; and, Sir Edgar, seeing that he was not 
 actuated by a spirit of persecution, but solely 
 by a sense of duty, which the extraordinary 
 circumstances of the times pressed with par- 
 ticular severity on Roman Catholics, also 
 tendered him his acknowledgments. It was 
 then arranged, that Sir Edgar should imme- 
 diately repair, under an escort of two con- 
 stables, to the county gaol, at Exeter ; and 
 that instructions should be forwarded to the 
 gaoler, on the responsibility of Sir Walter, to 
 
 e2 
 
76 HILDEERAND. 
 
 allow him to be freely visited by his daughter 
 and cousin, and to treat him with the utmost 
 respect. This arrangement, so much more 
 lenient than the accused party had been dis- 
 posed to expect, was not effected with the con- 
 currence of Shedlock; but Sir Walter over- 
 ruled his opposition, and induced him, by a 
 few peremptory words, to yield acquiescence. 
 Matters having been thus settled, Sir Walter 
 dropped a courteous bow to Sir Edgar and 
 hi family, and, breaking through the group 
 around him, passed out of the mansion, fol- 
 lowed reluctantly by Shedlock. 
 
 Sir Walter did not address a word to his 
 companion till they had mounted their horses, 
 which, on emerging from the mansion, they 
 found waiting them at the door. On setting 
 forward, however, in their way down the 
 avenue to the road, he broke the silence. 
 
 " This matter is somewhat serious," he re- 
 marked ; " for, besides that Sir Edgar de 
 Neville, by his own acknowledgment, is a 
 
HILDEBRAND. 77 
 
 Papist, I perceive tiiat he hath some family 
 connections with Spain. These will be greatly 
 to bis detriment, I fear me, in the mind of 
 the Queen's Highness." 
 
 ** Ay, verily, her Highness is wise," an- 
 swered Shedlock, *'and righteous to jtidge 
 the earth — even as Deborah, with whom was 
 the sword of the Lord, and who was as a 
 scourge to the Philistines." 
 
 "Even so," rejoined Sir Walter; "and 
 her Highness hath good reason, since the be- 
 heading of the Queen of Scots, to regard 
 all Papists with unsleeping jealousy. Never- 
 theless, I would wager a round sum, an' I 
 had it idle, that this Sir Edgar will approve 
 himself innocent." 
 
 " Fie on thee now, Sir Walter Raleigh I" 
 exclaimed Shedlock. '* Wouldst thou abet 
 Amalek, and lend a buckler to the disturbers 
 of Israel?" 
 
 Sir Walter Raleigh — for it was indeed that 
 great man — smiled as he replied : " I' faith, 
 
78 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 thou art over-zealous, Sir Sheriff. But 'tis a 
 g:ood fault ! 'tis a good fault ! " 
 
 *« Over-zealous!" cried the Puritan, raising 
 his small, piercing eyes till only the white was 
 visible ; *' w^ho can be over-zealous for the 
 Lord? Shall the sword of Gideon, which 
 hath scared the Antichrist in his den, be cast 
 aside, and the ungodly sons of Belial yet 
 muster for the battle ? " 
 
 '«No, no, not so," answered Sir Walter. 
 " But let us speak of it no more. Thou 
 knowest, Master Shedlock, I sought thee this 
 morning on other business. The matter of 
 the Popish knight was forced on me by 
 thee." 
 
 " And thou hast therein thwarted me," 
 remarked Shedlock, *' to thy very utmost. 
 The Lord forgive thee, Sir Walter Raleigh !'* 
 
 *' I did but put a drag on thy hot zeal," 
 answered Sir Walter ; " and who could do a 
 less thing, Sir Sheriff, for so fair a lady ? But 
 1 see thy skeleton clerk is coming up with us," 
 
HILDEBRAND. 79 
 
 he continued, as, casting* a glance in his rear, 
 he discovered the individual specified, mounted 
 on a lean and Rosinante-looking steed, riding 
 after them. " Let us put forward a space, 
 and I will then tell thee, with my customed 
 brevity, what is the project I would engage 
 thee in." 
 
 Shedlock silently complied with this re- 
 quest, and, without further words, he and Sir 
 Walter clapped spurs to their steeds, and rode 
 smartly on. They had now gained the high- 
 road, and, as they passed along", Sir Walter 
 unfolded to his companion, with his promised 
 brevity, the project to which he had alluded, 
 and in which he sought to engage his pecu- 
 niary support. 
 
 The project referred to was to send out two 
 ships, which were now lying in Topsham har- 
 bour, to Sir Walter's plantations in Carolina, 
 with some labourers and necessaries for the 
 colonists, and a few bales of merchandise, of 
 various descriptions, to traffic with the In- 
 
80 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 dians. On their homeward voyage, the two 
 vessels were to endeavour, by a slight devia- 
 tion from the direct track, to fall in with the 
 homeward-bound Mexican galleons of Spain, 
 and, in virtue of the letters of marque which 
 they would carry, attack such of them as they 
 could detach from the fleet, and strive to 
 effect their capture. As one of these vessels 
 would be an inestimable prize, Sir Walter 
 had made great exertions to raise means to 
 fit out the expedition, but a considerable sum 
 was still wanting, after all his resources were 
 exhausted, to render the outfit complete. In 
 this dilemma, he proposed to Shedlock, who 
 had advanced money on several of his past 
 adv^entures, that he should have one half of 
 the profits of the expedition, conditionally 
 that he paid one fifth of the expense ; and this 
 was to be secured to him, whatever the profits 
 might be, free of all charge or deduction. 
 
 Shedlock did not hesitate long over this 
 proposal. 
 
HILDEBRAND, 
 
 81 
 
 ** An' 1 were assured that thy cruizers 
 would capture a galleon, thine offer were not 
 amiss," he said ; "but how know I, if they 
 were to come to quarters, that these ungodly 
 Popish Spaniards will not baffle thee f" 
 
 " Have they baffled me aforetime ?" de- 
 manded Sir Walter. 
 
 " No," replied the Puritan ; *' but thy 
 cruizers, now left to a deputy, were then led 
 by thyself; and, like David, thy hast been a 
 man of war from thy youth up. Howbeit, 
 an' thou wilt secure me on thy two ships, by 
 making them mine in case of failure, I will 
 advance thee the money.*' 
 
 **1 will secure thee on one ship," returned 
 Sir Walter ; " and the worth of that is more, 
 in its bare outfit, than the whole sum 1 re- 
 quire." 
 
 After some bickering, Shedlock, with 
 affected reluctance, but really with much 
 inward satisfaction — for the proposal was 
 more advantageous than he had expected — 
 
 e3 
 
82 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 accepted the offer. He suggested that the 
 conditions of their agreement, with the secu- 
 rity agreed on, should at once be transferred 
 to paper, and signed and sealed by each of 
 them, in the presence of an attorney; and he 
 promised, on this being done, that the sum Sir 
 Walter wanted should be immediately forth- 
 coming. 
 
 By the time these particulars were arranged, 
 the two horsemen had arrived at Bethlehem 
 Hall, the Puritan sheriff's residence. On their 
 drawing nigh the mansion, a short, squat 
 woman, who had been aroused by the sound 
 of the horses' feet, and had come forth from 
 mere curiosity, made her appearance at the 
 abutting porch, for the purpose of ascertain- 
 ing, by a survey of their persons, who and 
 what they were. Having satisfied her curi- 
 osity, she was about to turn into the house 
 again, but Shedlock, happening to glance 
 that way, discerned her retreating figure, and 
 shouted to her to stop. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 83 
 
 " Ho, Abigail !" he cried. 
 
 *' Who calls Abig:ail ?" demanded the wo- 
 man, turning sharply round. 
 
 '* Hither, hussey, and see ! " returned Shed- 
 lock, drawing up before the porch. " Verily 
 thou art a stubborn stock, and stiff-necked, 
 as was Israel of old. Thou must be bent to 
 obedience, woman, by a strong hand, and an 
 outstretched arm. Surely, the spirit shall 
 make me strong to prove thee." 
 
 The woman to whom his rebuke was ad- 
 dressed, and whom the last moment had 
 brought close up with them, was about fifty 
 years of age, and had the appearance of an 
 inferior domestic, or, to use a modern phrase, 
 servant-of-all-work. She was, as has been 
 remarked, a short, squat figure, which time 
 appeared to have strengthened and braced 
 up, rather than impaired. Her features were 
 harsh and rigid, and marked, just below the 
 mouth, on the ball of the chin, with distinct 
 traces of a beard, partly sandy-colour, and 
 
84 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 partly grey. Her appearance was rendered 
 doubly unprepossessing, on a closer survey, 
 by her mean and slovenly attire ; which, not 
 only from its cut, but in its materials, was 
 unsightly in the extreme, and was no way im- 
 proved by its sundry varied patches of grease 
 and grime. 
 
 She did not make any reply to the reproof 
 of Shedlock, but, raising her small brown 
 eyes, she looked him full in the face, and 
 thus waited whatever he might say further. 
 
 " Now I see in thee the iniquity of Jero- 
 boam, which caused Israel to sin,'* cried 
 Shedlock. «• Wilt thou take these beasts, or 
 not?" 
 
 The woman sulkily stepped forward, and, 
 with some show of impatience, caught up the 
 bridles of the two horses, and twisted them 
 round her brawny arm. Sir Walter and 
 Shedlock, without taking any notice of her 
 demeanour, then alighted, and passed through 
 the porch into the house. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 85 
 
 Crossing the hall within, Shedlock led Sir 
 Walter to another apartment, less capacious 
 in its dimepsions, at its further end. Here 
 he invited him to be seated ; and Sir Walter, 
 who did not need a second invitation, threw 
 himself into the only chair in the chamber, 
 and prepared to make himself at home. 
 
 " Hast thou ever a draught of water in thy 
 reach. Master Shedlock ?" he inquired, on 
 thus disposing himself. " By my lady's hand, 
 1 could now look pleasantly on a flowing 
 spring." 
 
 " 'Tis well said, Sir Walter," observed 
 Shedlock. " Water is a good drink ; and 
 Jehonidab, the son of Rechab, who drank no 
 wine, shall not want a man before the Lord 
 for ever. I will straight send thee some 
 water, and, if thou wilt wait my return here, 
 I will ride off for Master Hardscrew, the 
 attorney, and have him despatch our busines^ 
 at once." 
 
 *' Be it so," answered Sir Walter. '' But I 
 
86 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 brought a small leather box here this morn- 
 ing, hoping to bear away with me, an* we 
 came to a settlement, the money thou art 
 to furnish me withal. I would I had it here 
 now." 
 
 " 'Tis there," replied Shedlock, pointing 
 to a leather case, that lay in one corner of 
 the chamber. 
 
 Having thus pointed it out, he passed into 
 the hall, and Sir Walter, left to himself, pro- 
 ceeded to possess himself of the leather case. 
 Raising it from the floor, he drew a small key 
 from his vest, and, with a steady hand, ap- 
 plied it to a padlock, which, with the aid of 
 a bolt and small staple, fastened the cover to 
 the body of the case, and unlocked it. The 
 fastenings removed, he opened the case, and 
 drevi^ forth a small pipe, made of cherry- 
 stick, with a bowl at the end, or, rather, at 
 one end, made of burned clay. A little 
 bag, that had been lying under the pipe, in 
 the bottom of the case, furnished him with 
 
HILDEBRAND. 87 
 
 some tobacco, which he first loosened well 
 with his fingers, and then placed in the bowl 
 of his pipe. This done, he drew a small 
 tinder-box from the case, and, with the aid of 
 its accompanying flint and steel, quickly 
 procured a light. Having ignited his pipe, 
 he shut up the leather case, and returned to 
 his seat. 
 
 Meantime, his puritanical host, wholly 
 bent on business, passed quickly across the 
 hall, intending to set off straightway for 
 lawyer flardscrew. As he drew near the 
 porch, he encountered his clerk, who, having 
 ridden at the utmost speed of his horse, had, 
 at last, after several stumbles, got safe home 
 again. 
 
 «• Zedekiah," said Shedlock, looking at him 
 steadfastly, ** hie to Abigail for a flagon, and 
 take a draught of water to Sir Walter Raleigh, 
 in the blue room yonder. Shall we not give 
 the stranger a cup of water, that he may glad- 
 den his heart withal V* 
 
88 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 Zedekiah Truman — for such was the name 
 of the sheriff's clerk — heard this order with 
 some deg;ree of dismay, but he did not venture 
 to render his hesitation manifest. He looked 
 upon Sir Walter Raleigh, of whose great 
 learning and wondrous ingenuity such wild 
 stories were everywhere current, to be little 
 better than a magician, who, by some unlaw- 
 ful and prohibited means, maintained an in- 
 tercourse with the spirits of darkness ; and as 
 Zedekiah regarded the devil, if not all his 
 works, with an unconquerable aversion, he 
 naturally felt no way inclined to venture alone 
 into his presence. Necessity, however, left 
 him no alternative, and he reluctantly pro- 
 ceeded on the errand intrusted to him. 
 
 Having procured the water, he retraced 
 his steps, full of grave reflections on the ini- 
 quity of magic, and the danger of holding 
 any intercourse, of whatever nature, with the 
 great source of evil. He was confirmed in 
 this opinion on reaching the hall when a 
 
HILDEBRAND. 89 
 
 strong smell of burning, emitted by Sir 
 Walter's pipe, assailed his nostrils. Still he 
 pursued his way> and, though not without 
 hesitation, passed on to Sir Walter's chamber, 
 and threw open the door. 
 
 He cast one glance at the centre of the 
 room, and there, to his utter amazement, he 
 beheld Sir Walter seated quietly in an easy- 
 chair, emitting from his mouth volumes of 
 flame and smoke. Not doubting that this 
 was some devilish enchantment, the terrifled 
 Puritan, with a trembling grasp, raised up the 
 large flagon which he had in his hands, and 
 threw the whole of its contents right into Sir 
 Walter's face. Then, with a cry of despair, 
 he turned hastily about, and made off". 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Besides Zedekiah Truman and the maiden 
 Abigail (for Abigail had never been married), 
 the establishment at Bethlehem Hall, of which 
 we have been recently treating, embraced 
 another individual, who, being Master Shed- 
 lock's wife, might with propriety be con- 
 sidered its mistress. But if Dame Shed lock 
 was such in name, or, to take a higher ground, 
 by right, a very limited acquaintance with the 
 economy of the Hall, on occasions of a gene- 
 ra] nature, would show that she was not so 
 in fact. So far, indeed, from governing 
 others, she was scarcely mistress of herself, 
 
HILDEBRAND. 91 
 
 but was held responsible by her lord for what- 
 ever she did, and was continually being sub- 
 jected, according to the turn of his capricious 
 temper, to all those mortifications and trials, 
 which too often form the portion of the un- 
 complaining wife. 
 
 Few women could have borne this treat- 
 ment with the meekness and patience that 
 were manifested by Dame Shedlock. Her 
 equanimity was, to all appearance, above the 
 reach of those circumstances which influence 
 most tempers, and was founded on qualities 
 too sterling to be corrupted, and too solid to 
 be undermined. She met insult, however 
 gratuitous, with the most calm endurance ; 
 she submitted to degradation, without a 
 murmur ; and, what was stranger still, as 
 opposed to the strongest principles of our 
 nature, she repaid the tyranny of her husband 
 with the deepest and most absolute love. 
 
 Tt is a difficult thing to tear the affections 
 from one who, in times past, has been their 
 
92 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 stay and centre ; and it may be doubted 
 whether the heart can ever wholly alienate a 
 once-cherished object; but that love, which 
 comprehends the softest feelings of our 
 nature, bound together by the most tender 
 memories, should be proof to a continuous 
 succession of outrageous assaults, and sur- 
 vive all fellowship and reciprocity, seems 
 almost impossible. Yet Dame Shedlock, in 
 her attachment to her husband, realised this 
 seeming anomaly. After a life of ill-usage, 
 she still clung to him as fondly, as devot- 
 edly, and even as passionately, as on the 
 day that, glowing with maidenly confusion, 
 she first surrendered to him her hand and 
 heart. He might be a bad man ; she might 
 know that, in his dealings with the world, 
 he often committed very unscrupulous acts ; 
 but yet her bosom found him an excuse, or 
 awarded him a justification. Such a deed 
 might appear evil in her eye, but it had, no 
 doubt, a sanction in the practice of the 
 
HILDEBRAND. 93 
 
 world, or was called for and justified by the 
 circumstances of the times. She would not 
 acknowledge that the absolute possessor of 
 her most precious sympathies, on whom she 
 reposed her happiness here, and her wishes 
 of hereafter, was stained and defiled with the 
 hideous colours of guilt : even if he were so, 
 it was not by her, the wife and partner of his 
 bosom, that his actions were to be questioned, 
 or his conduct condemned. In short, despite 
 his ill-usage, and the groveling selfishness of 
 his nature, which he seemed to pride himself 
 in making apparent, she loved him ; and this 
 explains, in one word, every trait in her con- 
 duct that appears singular or unnatural. 
 
 If Dame Shedlock had been a mother, her 
 love for her husband might, from the division 
 of her affections, have been less stable, and 
 more alive to those slights and provocations, 
 which fall on the heart with a depressing in- 
 fluence. Less possessed by her love, she 
 would have viewed his character more closely : 
 
94 HILDEERAND. 
 
 she would have deemed his affectation of 
 sanctity, which she now considered pure and 
 genuine, sheer hypocrisy, and his violations 
 of right, oppressive and sinful. His selfish- 
 ness, dissimulation, and avarice, however dis- 
 guised, would have deprived him of her 
 respect ; and his tyrannical disposition would 
 probably have provoked her contempt. But, 
 secluded from all society, having no channel 
 but him for the sweetest effusions of her 
 amiable and gentle nature, her love was with- 
 out restraint, and she could see in his heart 
 no shade of evil, or trace of blemish. 
 
 It Is not always that an individual's temper, 
 as far as regards its principal characteristics, 
 may be seen in the face; but in Dame Shed- 
 lock's, it was written distinctly. Her com- 
 plexion was dark, and, though she might be 
 in her fiftieth year, her hair, where it was 
 visible, was still dark also, yet not unmingled 
 with grey. Her eyes were of a deep brown, 
 and amply answered, by their quiet and sub- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 95 
 
 dued light, for the evenness of her disposi- 
 tion, and the docility of her nature. The 
 impression they created was confirmed, on a 
 closer survey, by her other features, which, 
 though not of a classic mould, were regular 
 and harmonious, and were more charming 
 from their sweet melancholy, chastened by 
 the soft light of resignation and endurance, 
 than they would have been in the full glow of 
 mere youth and beauty. 
 
 Such was the person who, a few minutes 
 previous to the period that closed our last 
 chapter, while Shedlock and Sir Walter Ra- 
 leigh were yet in the avenue, passed into 
 the pleasure-ground that surrounded Bethle- 
 ham Hall, and proceeded down a secluded 
 side-walk. For some few minutes she walked 
 leisurely along, without sustaining any inter- 
 ruption, or, indeed, encountering or seeing a 
 single individual. But after a while, she came 
 to a spot where, pushed out by a ^small 
 shrubbery, the path swept close up to the 
 
96 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 park-fence, in which there was a blind 
 gate, communicating with the lane beyond. 
 Though she was within a pace or two of the 
 gate, she did not observe that it was slightly 
 ajar ; and it was not till she came abreast of 
 it, and, thinking she heard a rustling noise 
 in that quarter, turned an inquiring gaze 
 thitherwards, that the fact incurred her notice. 
 Her gaze was still turned on the door, when 
 it was suddenly pushed open, and a man, 
 whom it had served as a place of ambush, 
 presented himself at the aperture. 
 
 She gave a slight start as she glanced in 
 the man's face, and then turned an anxious 
 gaze around her, as if to ascertain, by this 
 hasty survey, whether any other person was 
 within sight. But the view was, from the 
 curve in the walk, very limited, and in neither 
 direction extended more than a dozen yards, 
 when it was lost in the sweep of the adjacent 
 shrubbery. So far as her glance reached, 
 however, there was no person in view, and, 
 
HILDEBRAND. 97 
 
 satisfied of this, she turned her eye on the 
 man again. 
 
 " Bernard Gray, what wouldst thou ?" she 
 inquired. 
 
 " I knew thou wouldst come this way/' an- 
 swered the person addressed, and who, it will 
 be inferred, was no other than our friend Ber- 
 nard, "and I waited here to see thee. Since 
 1 was with thee last, I have been in talk with 
 young- Clifford, and warned him to be wary." 
 
 " And he has gone ?" said Dame Shedlock. 
 
 ** That has he not," replied Bernard, 
 " though he is to go, an' no ill happen him, 
 this even." 
 
 Dame Shedlock turned pale on hearing 
 these words. " An' he be not gone already," 
 she said, " he may not go at all. Thou 
 shouldst have urged him to depart incon- 
 tinently." 
 
 ** He gave my warning no heed," returned 
 Bernard. " He hath no fear of peril." 
 
 " Is he so valiant?" inquired the dame. 
 VOL. I. P 
 
9lpf HILDEBRAND. 
 
 " Faith, there be none more so," answered 
 Bernard. " 'T would do thy heart good, lady, 
 to see what a brave cavalier is he now. I 
 prithee, take pity upon him, and lend him thy 
 countenance." 
 
 '« What wouldst thou have me do ?" de- 
 manded Dame Shedlock. 
 
 *' Though knowest, lady," replied Bernard, 
 ** that these broad lands, though they be 
 vested in thy husband, be his rightfully; 
 and " 
 
 " 'T is false !" cried Dame Shedlock, with 
 much passion. ** But begone ! begone ! I'll 
 no more with thee !" 
 
 " But one moment !" implored Bernard. 
 
 *' Hush, for thy life !" said the dame : 
 '* some one comes, and the step, raethinks, is 
 his." 
 
 " I'll seek thee again to-morrow, then," 
 said Bernard, in a low tone. 
 
 Thus speaking, he stepped into the lane, 
 closing the door behind him. Almost at the 
 
HILDEBRAND. 99 
 
 same moment, Shedlock — for the dame was 
 right in her conjecture — made his appearance 
 in the walk, within a few paces of where they 
 had been conversing. 
 
 This was a dilemma of which the dame had 
 had no expectation. Already disturbed by 
 her conversation with Bernard, the sudden 
 approach of her husband, who looked on 
 Bernard as an enemy, took her perfectly 
 aback, and her generally-serene face pre- 
 sented the most lively traces of embarrass- 
 ment and confusion. 
 
 Shedlock observed her discomposure in- 
 stantly, and its inconsistency with her usual 
 demeanour, which was so uniformly placid, 
 invoked in his mind the most singular sus- 
 picions. 
 
 '* Who hath been here ?" he demanded, on 
 coming up with her. 
 
 Before the dame could reply, he turned to 
 the contiguous gate, and, drawing it open, 
 looked out on the lane. There was no one 
 
 V 2 
 
100 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 there, and, stepping: back, he pushed the g^iie 
 close again, and turned to the dame once 
 more. 
 
 The latter person had by this time re- 
 covered herself; but her present composure, 
 though almost perfect, and quite relieved of 
 every trace of confusion, did not lead him 
 to forget her previous bearing. Indeed, it 
 rather served, from the breadth and pro- 
 minence of the contrast, to attach to his sus- 
 picions some shade of confirmation. 
 
 *' Woman I" he cried, in a voice husky with 
 rage, " what doth this mean ? Who hath been 
 here, 1 say ?" 
 
 *' Dost think I would wrong thee, then ?'* 
 answered the dame. '* No ! no! — not for 
 my life !" 
 
 " Who hath been here ?" demanded Shed- 
 lock, seizing her by the collar of her bodice. 
 
 *< Nay, never hurt me, husband !" replied 
 the dame, shrinking a little. ** Only say thou 
 wilt forgive me — say thou wilt not be angered, 
 and I will tell thee.'' 
 
HILDEBRAND. 101 
 
 *« Woman ! I have a mind to dash thee 
 down," reioined Shedloek, giving her a slight 
 shake, " and to trample thee under foot, as 
 the angels of darkness trample on Judas. 
 But I will forbear, and the Spirit, through 
 the mercy of the Lord, shall hold me back. 
 Who hath been here?" 
 
 His small ferret-like eyes glared fearfully 
 on her face, and there was a red flush on his 
 brow, just beneath the brim of his hat, that 
 made the dame tremble. Still she resolved to 
 tell him the truth, though she knew that, in 
 his present mood, it would draw down upon 
 her head the full fury of his anger. 
 
 " Do me no harm, husband I" she said. 
 *' *Twas the man Bernard Gray. " 
 
 ** Ah!" cried Shedloek. 
 
 " Indeed, dear, T sought him not," said the 
 dame, earnestly. '* He was standing here, as 
 I came up ; and I gave him but a cold wel- 
 come." 
 
 " What sought he here ?" demanded Shed- 
 lock. 
 
102 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 "That know I not," answered the dame, 
 «' for, while he was yet speaking, we heard thy 
 step approach, and he broke away." 
 
 Shedloek's angry eyes ran quickly over 
 her face, but there was nothing there to 
 awake in him, by a want of harmony with the 
 general expression, the least doubt of her 
 sincerity. Her complexion, it is true, had 
 undergone a change, and was very pale, and, 
 moreover, there was a trace of hesitation 
 about her lips ; but Shedlock knew her too 
 well to attribute this manifestation to con- 
 scious guilt, or aught but her terror. It was 
 clear that she spoke the truth, and that she 
 thought, in the confidence and simplicity of 
 her nature, that he would believe her; for 
 shehad never uttered a falsehood yet. 
 
 «« The Lord deliver me from thy snares," 
 
 ejaculated Shedlock, devoutly, and, at the 
 
 same time, releasing her from his grasp. 
 
 " Verily, the Lord is strong to deliver me." 
 
 '* Of a surety, is he/' answered the dame. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 103 
 
 *' Put thy trust in the Lord, and he shall 
 deliver thee out of thy trouble." 
 
 ** Peace, thou Jezebel, and get thee hence !" 
 returned Shedlock. ** There is a malignant 
 yonder, in the blue chamber, who will serve 
 thee, mayhap, for this vagrant Bernard. Get 
 thee to him, and hold him there till my 
 return." 
 
 Dame Shedlock made no answer, but, turn- 
 ing silently away, proceeded to obey the in- 
 junction of her lord. 
 
 A iew minutes of brisk walking brought 
 her to the hall, which she entered, intending, 
 though still somewhat agitated, to cross to 
 the blue room without delay. Just as she 
 passed under the porch, however, she was 
 encountered by Zedekiah Truman, who, in 
 his eagerness to retreat, had almost run her 
 down, and now brought her to a stand. 
 
 " Zedekiah, what troubleth thee ?" she 
 asked, in amaze. 
 
 But the terrified Zedekiah, whether from 
 
104 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 fear, or from want of breath, was quite 
 speechless, and, in reply to her inquiry, could 
 only point to the open door of the blue room. 
 Turning her eye thitherwards, she perceived 
 a cavalier — who, indeed, was no other than 
 Sir Walter Raleigh — standing in the middle 
 of the chamber, and shaking from his locks 
 and face a continuous stream of water. She 
 was wondering what this could mean, when 
 Zedekiah, whom she had seized by the wrist, 
 sought to throw off her hold, and resume his 
 interrupted flight. 
 
 " The devil ! the devil I" he cried, in tre- 
 mulous accents. " I saw the devil talking 
 with him.'' 
 
 Thus speaking, he wrenched his wrist from 
 the dame's grasp, and, pushing past her, 
 dashed through the hall-door. The dame, 
 though her heart was not quite itself, main- 
 tained her ground, and, again glancing at Sir 
 Walter, waited an explanation of this singular 
 incident. 
 
HILDEBRAND» 105 
 
 She was not kept in uncertainty long. Sir 
 Walter, aroused by Zedekiah's exclamation, 
 which revealed to him the spring and motive 
 of that person's conduct, speedily recovered 
 himself; and though, with all his vexation, 
 he could hardly repress a hearty laugh, pro- 
 ceeded to inform her how he came to be 
 placed in a plight so deplorable. 
 
 He soon made the dame sensible, by his 
 comprehensive explanation, that the simple 
 Zedekiah was entirely mistaken, and that the 
 report of his having been in correspondence 
 with Satan was utterly unfounded. Satisfied 
 of this, the dame supplied him with a napkin, 
 in order that he might remove the water from 
 his face and hair. She then hastened, at his 
 request, to explain what had happened to her 
 two domestics, as Sir Walter feared that they 
 might otherwise alarm the neighbourhood, 
 and so put them to great inconvenience. 
 
 During her absence. Sir Walter endea- 
 voured, as far as circumstances would permit, 
 
 F 3 
 
106 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 to restore his disordered toilet. He accom- 
 plished his purpose with ease ; for his ru£F, 
 or frill, which, according to the fashion of 
 the day, he wore high, was but very slightly 
 wet ; aud this was the only part of his dress 
 that the water could damage. By the time 
 that he had perfectly efifaced all vestige of the 
 water, the dame rejoined him ; and the most 
 polished courtier of an age which, by the 
 testimony of both *' tale and history," 
 abounded in polished courtiers, entered on a 
 tete-a-tete with a Puritan matron. 
 
 Though far in advance of the prejudices 
 and confined feelings of his era, Sir Walter 
 was not, on the whole, over pleased with 
 this situation. He was, however, of that 
 felicitous disposition, that he made himself 
 at his ease in whatever society he might 
 happen to be mingled with; and at a time 
 when, as now, he was on the brink of enter- 
 prises that involved the most gigantic in- 
 terests, and were attended by the greatest 
 
HILDEBRAND. 107 
 
 risks, which no care or foresight could avoid, 
 would bend his mind to the most trifling 
 points of etiquette, and the least significant 
 details of social harmony. Still, he hailed 
 the return of Shedlock, after an interval of 
 about an hour, with some degree of pleasure, 
 and felt that the accession to the company 
 relieved him of an irksome task, 
 
 Shedlock was accompanied by the lawyer, 
 Master Hardscrew, whom he had, conform- 
 ably to his expectations, found at home, and 
 easily induced to return with him to the 
 Hall. 
 
 The arrival of these individuals afforded 
 Dame Shedlock an excuse to retire, which, 
 on a signal from her husband, she did forth- 
 with. They uere, as they desired, thus left 
 to themselves, and, free from all obstruc- 
 tion, they entered on the business that had 
 brought them together. The particulars of 
 this being already settled, and only the 
 written agreement, in which those particulars 
 
108 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 were to be embodied, remaining to be done, 
 they shortly brought it 1o a close. 
 
 Whatever might be its charms, Bethlehem 
 Hall was not the sort of place, when the 
 choice rested with himself, that Sir Walter 
 Raleigh would find delight in ; and therefore, 
 after he had come to a settlement with Shed- 
 lock, he lost no time in taking his departure. 
 But he did not carry away with him what had 
 been the chief object of his repairing thither. 
 Shedlock, though immensely wealthy, kept 
 but little money in his house, the greater part 
 of his rents being vested in a mercantile 
 concern, at Exeter, in which he occupied the 
 position of sleeping partner. It was ar- 
 ranged, therefore, on the agreement being 
 signed, that the advance to be made by Shed- 
 lock should be paid over to Sir Walter the 
 next morning, at the countinghouse of the 
 aforesaid concern ; and, with this appoint- 
 ment, the contracting parties separated. 
 
 The countinghouse of Shedlock and Craft- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 109 
 
 all— for such was the designation of the con- 
 cern alluded to — was situate in the High-street 
 of Exeter; and, though the operations of the 
 firm were by no means limited, was presided 
 over by the individual who, from whatever 
 reason, was named last. It was not, however, 
 in the firm's designation only, but in every- 
 thing he engaged in, that this person played 
 second to Shedlock; and not to Shedlock 
 alone, but to every one else. So excessive was 
 his modesty, that he had never been known 
 to act on an opinion of his own, and, if he 
 did so act, he kept the matter a profound 
 secret. To hear him speak, one would ima- 
 gine, on a first acquaintance, that he was in- 
 capable of knowing anything from his own 
 observation, or of doing anything at his own 
 prompture. It was always " worthy Master 
 This," by his account, that told him so-and- 
 so, and '' honest Master That " that sug- 
 gested such a thing. He carried his modesty 
 so far, in all outward appearance, that he 
 
110 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 would not exercise his own judgment on the 
 most common occasions. Such a neighbour 
 might pursue his trade unfairly ; he could 
 not say : it was true, indeed, that gentle 
 Master Chatter, who was said to have good 
 opportunities of knowing, had told him it was 
 so ; but he could form no opinion on the 
 matter himself. Another neighbour was 
 hanged for murder: the place of execution, 
 over the city-gaol, was opposite to his win- 
 dow, and the gibbet and swinging corpse 
 literalJy stared him in the face ; but he only 
 knew of the occurrence from honest Master 
 Pry. He never interfered with any one ; he 
 could hardly be said, indeed, to understand 
 his own business, much less be acquainted 
 with that of otliers ; and, by those who 
 esteemed themselves shrewd and knowing, he 
 was looked upon as a harmless but irre- 
 claimable fool. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, Master Craftall had 
 raised himself, some way or other, from an^ 
 
HILDEBKAND. HI 
 
 obscure station, and very limited means, to be 
 a partner in the chief firm in Exeter. His 
 lean, ungainly figure, and hard features, 
 though the last were hardly ever free from a 
 quiet smile, affecting benevolence and equa- 
 nimity, might have been a disadvantage to 
 him in another walk of life ; but, in that of 
 commerce, they had formed no impediment 
 to his progress, and he plodded his way to 
 wealth unobserved, without exciting enmity, 
 or awaking esteem. 
 
 Such was the person who received Sir 
 Walter Raleigh, with one of his blandest 
 smiles, at the door of his countinghouse, on 
 the morning after his visit to Bethlehem 
 Hall. Stepping out from the door, he as- 
 sisted the knight to dismount, and then, de- 
 livering his horse to the care of his groom, 
 invited him to pass to the interior. .There 
 Sir Walter found Shedlock, and Hardscrew, 
 the lawyer ; and after a brief greeting, these 
 persons proceeded, by paying him over the 
 
m 
 
 112 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 stipulated sum, to bring their transaction 
 with him to a close. 
 
 Their business effected, Sir Walter was 
 about to take his leave, when Craftall, turn- 
 ing round from an adjacent desk, from which 
 he could see and hear all that passed, inter- 
 posed. 
 
 " Doth worthy Master Shedlock guess 
 truly, good Sir Walter," he said, in a silvery 
 tone, " that thou art sending out a ship to 
 Carolina?*' 
 
 '' That does he, Master Craftall," an- 
 swered Sir Walter. " I am sending two 
 ships thither." 
 
 ** Wherefore askest thou this ?" inquired 
 Shedlock. 
 
 '* I have it from gentle Master Chatter,'* 
 replied Craftall, in the same silvery tone, 
 ** that thou hast just apprehended an escaped 
 felon, a runaway from the plantations; and 
 sweet Master Pry, who was by when it was 
 told me, thought the knave should be again 
 
HILDEBRAND. 113 
 
 sent to the plantations, if occasion should 
 serve." 
 
 " Verily, Master Pry thought well,'* ob- 
 served Shedlock. 
 
 " If the man be truly a runaway," said Sir 
 Walter, "and of an able body, he will be 
 right welcome ; for we have but few la- 
 bourers." 
 
 '* The harvest truly is great, but the la- 
 bourers be few," remarked Shedlock. 
 
 " I know not if he be a runaway," said 
 Craftall ; "but worthy Master Chatter, who 
 is reported to be well informed on such mat- 
 ters, so named him to me." 
 
 '* Masler Chatter named him aright," ob- 
 served Shedlock. " Moreover, he is of an 
 able body, and, in all things fitting, well en- 
 dowed." 
 
 " We will have him aboard at once," said 
 Sir Walter. " 1 purpose to despatch my own 
 ship with the morrow, and she may tarry for 
 the other, which is a hired one, at Carolina,*' 
 
114 HILDEBRAJSD. 
 
 Shedlock's small eyes, which hitherto had 
 been bent on the table, were raised up at this 
 moment, and emitted a gleam of intense satis- 
 faction. 
 
 " Verily, 'tis the resolve of wisdom," he 
 said, as if to himself. 
 
 «^ Well, I will leave it to thee. Master 
 Shedlock," remarked Sir Walter, '*to see 
 that the knave be handed over to ray captain. 
 And let it be done this even. Sir Sheriff, 
 an' it please thee. 
 
 «*This even, or to-morrow, as thou wilt," 
 answered Shedlock. " He is in Topsham 
 Gaol, near the Quay ; and thy two ships, me- 
 thinks, lie in Topsham Harbour ; so he may 
 be moved at thy convenience." 
 
 " Be it this even, then," said Sir Wal- 
 ter. 
 
 '* Verily, I will give thee a note to the 
 gaoler," returned Shedlock, «' directing him, 
 on the receipt thereof, to deliver the knave 
 into thy charge at once." 
 
HILDEBRAND. 115 
 
 Sir Walter, anxious to secure tlie reputed 
 convict, expressed his approval of such an 
 arrangement, and Shedlock hastened to carry 
 it out. Having written the note, he handed 
 it over to Sir Walter, and that individual, 
 who had now no further business with him, 
 and was heartily weary of his company, there- 
 upon took his leave, and departed. 
 
 His groom waited without with his horse, 
 and, quickly mounting, Sir Walter bade him 
 attend him to Topshara. 
 
 Topsham, the port of Exeter, was a small 
 stragghng town, situate on the estuary of the 
 Exe. It was only five miles distant, and 
 though the road, owing to a recent copious 
 rain, was somewhat heavy, and their horses 
 had that morning been ridden many miles, 
 they passed along at a quick pace, and soon 
 entered the principal street. 
 
 At that point of their journey, Sir Walter 
 espied a person approaching, in company 
 with three sailors, whom he recognised as the 
 
116 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 lieutenant, or chief mariner, of his favourite 
 ship ; and he called to him to stop. 
 
 **Ho, Master Halyard ! " he cried, drawing 
 up his horse. 
 
 The person addressed immediately came to 
 a halt, and then, looking round, let his eye 
 fall full on Sir Walter's face. After he had 
 thus surveyed his features, he raised his hand 
 to the brim of a very broad tarpaulin hat ; 
 and the three sailors who were with him, and 
 who, on his coming to a halt, had ranged 
 themselves in his rear, instantly performed 
 the same evolution. Having caught a good 
 hold of the brim of his hat, the lieutenant 
 pulled his head forward, as if he intended to 
 make a bow ; and the three sailors, as in the 
 first instance, followed his example. 
 
 " Ay, ay. Sir ! " cried the lieutenant. 
 
 *' Ay, ay, Sir ! " cried the three sailors. 
 
 ** Is your captain aboard ? '* asked Sir Wal- 
 ter, with a smile. 
 
 ** r faith, no, Sir," answered the lieutenant. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 117 
 
 *' About a week agone, when we had set all 
 taught aboard, he started on a cruise inland. 
 He hath not shown his colours here since.'* 
 
 " When doth he come back ? " inquired Sir 
 Walter, somewhat disappointed. 
 
 " That know 1 not, Sir,'* replied the lieute- 
 nant. " But he hath left a parcel aboard for 
 your honour, and his bearings, no doubt, be 
 therein set down." 
 
 ** We will aboard together, then," said Sir 
 Walter, *' and see how we stand. But first, 
 Master Halyard, an' it suit with thy conve- 
 nience, we'll bear down on the town-gaol, 
 and take in charge a prisonei 1 have there." 
 
 The lieutenant, though he had no wish to 
 be brought in contact with a landsman, such 
 as the prisoner would most probably prove, 
 readily acquiesced in his proposal ; and Sir 
 Walter set forward, at a leisurely pace, for 
 the specified locality, followed by his servant 
 and the mariners. On arriving at the gaol, he 
 drew up his horse, and, resigning the rein to 
 
118 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 his servant, leaped to the ground, and in- 
 flicted a loud knock on the gaol-door. 
 
 Sir Walter was still knocking when the 
 door was pulled open ; and the gaoler, scowl- 
 ing like a thunder-cloud, presented himself 
 in the doorway. Shedlock's note, and, what 
 he regarded as much, Sir Walter's evident 
 quality, seemed to propitiate his favour, and 
 his countenance somewhat brightened as he 
 invited the whole party to enter. 
 
 The prisoner was confined in an inner cell; 
 and, therefore, it was necessary, before they 
 could proceed thither, to procure a light. 
 This, however, was speedily done, and the 
 gaoler then led the way to the cell. 
 
 The door of the cell was low and narrow, 
 and, consequently, they had to enter singly, 
 bending their heads as they passed under the 
 threshold. The gaoler entered first, and, 
 stepping on one side, turned round to the 
 door again, and held up the light to Sir 
 Walter. Thus aided, Sir Walter distinguished 
 
HILDEBRAND. 119 
 
 the floor of the cell, and ventured to en- 
 ter. 
 
 As he alighted on the hard floor, he took 
 the light from the gaoler, and, holding it out 
 before him, glanced round in quest of the 
 prisoner. The latter, undisturbed by their 
 visit, was sitting on a heap of straw, in the 
 furthest corner ; but, from the gloom that 
 hung around. Sir Walter was a full moment 
 before he could make him out. When he did 
 distinguish him, he gave a sudden start. 
 
 " What! no ! yes!" he exclaimed ; " 't is 
 my trusty friend, Hildebrand Clifford." 
 
 And^ dropping the light, he made a spring 
 forward, and seized the prisoner by both his 
 hands. 
 
CHAPTER IT. 
 
 Adversity is the only true touchstone of 
 human worth and integrity. It may require 
 some limited degree of excellence, on certain 
 occasions, to deport ourselves becomingly 
 in a time of prosperity, and the smiles of the 
 highest good fortune sometimes distract and 
 intoxicate. But adversity, with a relentless 
 hand, and a determination that nothing can 
 subdue, probes the heart to the quick, and 
 develops every individual quality of which it 
 is composed. 
 
 The apprehension of her father on a 
 
HILDEBRAND. 121 
 
 charge of murder fell like a thunderbolt on 
 Evaline de Neville. She was, it was true, 
 aware that he was innocent, and that malice 
 only prompted the proceedings that had been 
 taken against him ; but, despite of this, she 
 could not conceal from herself, on reflection, 
 that he was in a situation of great peril, and 
 that the very circumstances which would 
 establish his innocence with an impartial 
 person, uncorrupted by the party excite- 
 ments of the time, would weigh most heavily 
 against him with a jealous and prejudiced 
 government. 
 
 Sir Edgar was a Roman Catholic ; and 
 that fact alone, though he were ever so 
 orderly, was sufficient to render him an 
 object of suspicion. But his matrimonial 
 connexion with Spain, the great bulwark of 
 the Roman Church, and a power with which 
 Queen Elizabeth was constantly embroiled, 
 made suspicion more active, and afforded a 
 reasonable ground for regarding him with 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
122 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 distrust. At a lime when the members of the 
 Roman Church were taug;ht, by an authority 
 their religion declared to be infallible, that 
 the Queen of- England was no more than an 
 usurper, and that it would be no sin to 
 remove her by assassination, and when the 
 conspiracy which led to the execution of 
 the Queen of Scots was still fresh in 
 remembrance, — at this time, a Roman Ca- 
 tholic accused, however unjustly, of mur- 
 dering an emissary of the Lord Treasurer, 
 might well apprehend that the scales of 
 justice would not be held very evenly, or 
 his judge be entirely free from enmity or pre- 
 judice. 
 
 Evaline knew little of the world. Brought 
 up in the seclusion of Neville Grange, the 
 spirit of the time was known to her, in most 
 of its bearings, only by report, and it was 
 only from history that she was acquainted 
 with the depravity of human nature. She 
 knew that, because she was a Roman Ca- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 123 
 
 tholic, her influence was circumscribed, and 
 the sphere of her action restricted ; but, 
 beyond this, she had little personal know- 
 ledge of the policy of statesmen, or the in- 
 justice of governments. Still she had an 
 idea, if an imperfect one, of the looseness 
 and insecurity of her position, and it was this 
 that now raised in her those fears for her 
 father, which we have sought, in the fore- 
 going remarks, clearly to explain. 
 
 But after the first shock of the unexpected 
 calamity had subsided, the whole energies of 
 the fair girl were braced up, in all outward 
 appearance, to but one object — the comfort 
 and support of her father. Within, the 
 struggle continued ; the heavy load of grief, 
 with its thrilling apprehensions, which time 
 amplified rather than reduced, still pressed 
 upon her heart ; but its rare qualities rallied 
 under the weight, and inspired her with 
 strength and fortitude commensurate with 
 the occasion. 
 
 g2 
 
124 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 Only ia her countenance, among all the 
 inmates of the mansion, could there be seen 
 anything that soothed fear, or excited hope ; 
 and though its aspect was but assumed, it 
 soon began to have an effect on the demeanour 
 of others. Her father, whose despondency 
 was chiefly occasioned by his concern for her, 
 seemed to acquire new vigour as he looked 
 on her placid features, and saw that she did 
 not bow before the emergency in despair, 
 but nerved herself to meet, by his side, what- 
 ever evil was to befall. He now felt his child 
 was a solace, instead of a source of anxiety ; 
 and found relief from sharing with her the 
 burthen of adversity. In a word, he aroused 
 himself from the moody fit which the decision 
 of the two justices had brought upon him, 
 and prepared to meet the issue, whatever it 
 might be, with dignity and fortitude. 
 
 The example of their master and youthful 
 mistress was not lost upon the servants, and 
 the faces of the afflicted household, from the 
 
HILDEBRAND. 125 
 
 steward downwards, shortly wore a lighter 
 appearance, though still a mournful one. Only 
 the Spaniard, Don Felix di Corva, whether 
 from the insensibility of his nature, or the 
 stubbornness of his dejection, was unmoved 
 by the carriage of the chief sufferers ; and 
 he became more sullen and reserved every 
 moment. But in the bustle attending the 
 prerarations for Sir Edgar's departure, in 
 company with Evaline and himself, which 
 now engaged the general attention, his de- 
 meanour was overlooked, and, consequently, 
 had no influence on the temper or deport- 
 ment of others. 
 
 Evaline herself superintended the arrange- 
 ments for their journey. These were, through 
 the example of her activity, speedily com- 
 pleted, and the moment of their departure 
 at length arrived. 
 
 The vehicle mentioned in the first chapter 
 of this history, in the account of the adven- 
 ture with the robbers, was drawn up before 
 
126 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 the steps of the hall-door, and announced to 
 be ready for their reception. Around it was 
 collected a group of Sir Edgar's tenants, 
 most of whom, besides being bound to him 
 by many obligations, professed the same reli- 
 gion as he did, and, with the jealousy which 
 persecution never fails to excite, considered 
 that he was now suffering for that religion, 
 and, therefore, regarded him with peculiar 
 sympathy. Many of them, too, especially 
 of the poorer sort, had experienced the good 
 offices of Evaline ; and the remembrance of 
 distresses that her bounty had mitigated, or 
 of hours of sickness that, either by her per- 
 sonal interposition, or by means less direct, 
 but equally effective, her active sympathy 
 had relieved, gave an additional and deeper 
 interest to the scene that they had come to 
 witness. 
 
 Every head was uncovered, and many a 
 blessing, " not loud, but deep,*' ejaculated in 
 their behalf, as Sir Edgar and his daughter 
 
HILDEBRAND. 127 
 
 appeared at the hall-door. Neither of them 
 spoke a word in acknowledgment — their 
 hearts were too full to speak ; — but they both 
 looked round kindly on the crowd, and this, 
 in their estimation, was acknowledgment suf- 
 ficient. They passed hastily to the carriage, 
 followed by Martha FoUett ; and, stepping 
 in, at once took their seats in that vehicle, 
 and closed the door. Don Felix di Corva, 
 pursuant to a previous arrangement, mounted 
 a saddle-horse, as did the two constables also ; 
 and, all being settled, the mournful cavalcade 
 set forward for Exeter. 
 
 This was a trying moment to the afflicted 
 inmates of the carriage. It was the moment 
 of separation — the parting from their native 
 home — the crossing of the bourne, as it were, 
 that divided them from the strife and troubles 
 of the wide world. All the comforts and 
 peace of that dear abode, which habit, no less 
 than affection, associated with the blithest 
 impulses of their nature, were now to be ex- 
 
1128 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 changed for a prison, and the tranquillity of 
 their past lives for anxiety and sorrow. They 
 were passing from retirement into the world 
 — from security to peril ; and their home had 
 never seemed so dear to them, under any 
 former trial or visitation, as at that moment. 
 
 Nevertheless, they had a strong support in 
 their mutual sympathy, and a high consola- 
 tion in religion. The pang was acute at first, 
 but, in the end, it was not without a happy 
 efiect ; for the sweet feelings that it awak- 
 ened, by the similarity and harmony of their 
 tone, rendered the parent and his child more 
 one being, and made the terrors of their posi- 
 tion seem less hideous and repulsive. 
 
 It was not till they had gone some distance 
 on the high-road that E valine became any 
 way composed. Her mind then turned on 
 a matter which, in the hurry and excitement 
 of the few past hours, she had hardly thought 
 of, but which she now viewed with very 
 serious concern. This was the singular dis- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 129 
 
 appearance of Hildebrand Clififord, which she 
 felt, on reflection, had exercised a material 
 influence on the position of her father. 
 
 The disappearance of Hildebrand was so 
 exceedingly mysterious, that she could not, 
 by any stretch of conjecture, reasonably 
 account for it. One moment, she thought 
 that he had absented himself but for a few 
 hours, as his horse, which her father had pro- 
 nounced to be a valuable one, was still at the 
 Grange, and his travelling-case had been 
 found unlocked in his chamber. But would 
 he, under any possible inducement, so far 
 outrage all decorum, as to leave her father's 
 residence without telling any one that such 
 was his purpose ? She was sure, he would 
 not ! Either, then, his absence was but tem- 
 porary, and he would shortly join them again, 
 or he had met with some accident, which, 
 contrary to his inclination, detained him at a 
 distance. E valine did not entertain this con- 
 jecture without a great degree of uneasiness. 
 
 g3 
 
130 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 Indeed, in the first instance, she strove to 
 repel it ; but as she felt certain that Hilde- 
 brand was incapable of rewarding their hos- 
 pitality and courtesy with rudeness or con- 
 tempt, and she could not think of any other 
 excuse for his conduct, the conviction grew 
 upon her, in spite of her earnest wishes for 
 his safety, that he had met with some un- 
 toward mishap. 
 
 After dwelling on the matter for some little 
 time, she could not refrain from mentioning 
 to her father, in rather a tremulous tone, 
 what was passing in her mind. 
 
 " The cavalier who did us such good serv- 
 ice, father, has absented himself somewhat 
 mysteriously," she observed. " I much fear 
 he has encountered some accident." 
 
 '* We are hardly warranted, Evaline, in 
 holding him in suspicion," answered Sir Ed- 
 gar ; " but, 1 confess, I cannot make his 
 singular disappearance look honourable. But 
 he may, for aught we know, be some paltry 
 
HILDEBRAND. 131 
 
 adventurer, who hath more knowledge of 
 wars than courtesies, and is better acquainted 
 with the customs of a soldier, which we have 
 seen him fulfil manfully, than the habits of a 
 gentleman." 
 
 " Oh no, father ! " cried Evaline, with some 
 eagerness, " thou canst not —I am sure thou 
 wilt not — deliberately say this of him. What- 
 ever he may turn out, he hath always shown 
 a very graceful behaviour, no less as a gen- 
 tleman than a soldier." 
 
 " Well, I think he has," rejoined Sir Edgar. 
 '' And yet — But what can we think, Evaline ?" 
 
 '* Indeed, I know not," said Evaline, in an 
 earnest tone. 
 
 As she spoke, she felt a trembling hand 
 laid timidly on her arm, and, turning round, 
 her eye fell on Martha Follett. 
 
 '* If thou art speaking of the stranger- 
 cavalier, my lady," said Martha, in an under 
 tone, " I think Don Felix knows where he 
 is." 
 
132' HILDEBRAND. 
 
 " What says the girl ?" inquired Sir Edgar. 
 
 'Tis nothing, Sir/* answered Evaline. •' She 
 thought my good cousin, Don Felix, might 
 know where our missing guest had gone ; 
 but he hath no more knowledge of the matter 
 than ourselves.'* 
 
 " Yet the girl may speak on some grounds," 
 observed Sir Edgar. " What meanest thou, 
 Martha?'* he added. 
 
 " Indeed, Sir, the matter ought to be made 
 known to thee," answered Martha; "and 
 though I am loth to be thought a tale-bearer, 
 I will even tell it thee myself. And 'tis only 
 myself, T believe, that can tell thee all, 
 though most of the servants know something 
 hath happened." 
 
 " What dost thou mean ?" demanded Sir 
 Edgar, with some impatience. 
 
 Evaline spoke not; but her eyes, which 
 previously had been turned the other way, 
 were bent anxiously on Martha's face, and 
 manifested the deepest interest. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 133 
 
 " Yesterday, Sir," said Martha, " in the 
 afternoon, as I was passing down the private 
 walk of the park, 1 suddenly encountered a 
 somewhat gay-looking cavalier, whom I had 
 never, as far as I remember, seen any time 
 before. I was passing on, when he seized 
 my hand — I must own, not uncivilly — and 
 begged me to take a letter which he gave me, 
 and which was inscribed to Captain Hilde- 
 brand, to the cavalier who had rescued my 
 master from the robbers. Before I could 
 well give him any answer, he turned quickly 
 away from me, and was out of sight in a 
 moment.'' 
 
 " Well," said Evaline, anxiously. 
 " When 1 had recovered myself, my lady," 
 continued Martha, '' 1 made all the haste I 
 could home, and betook me to the cavalier's 
 chamber. He was not there, but I had 
 hardly time to lay the letter on the table, and 
 hide me in a neighbouring closet, when his 
 step was on the threshold. He espied the 
 
134 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 letter straight, and, snatching it up, he tore it 
 open, and seemed to read i1 over, and over 
 again. This done, he buckled on his sword, 
 and passed out to the park." 
 
 " What hath this to do with Don Felix ?" 
 said Sir Edgar. 
 
 «' Old Adam Green, Sir," replied Martha, 
 " who fought with thee against the robbers, 
 met the cavalier in the park, and, it seems, 
 observing something strange in his portance, 
 had the curiosity to follow him a while. 
 Presently, as he reports, he saw him come to 
 a stand, when he was joined by a man that 
 Adam took to be the robber who escaped." 
 
 " 'T is impossible !" exclaimed Sir Edgar. 
 
 " So I said. Sir," resumed Martha, «« and 
 Adam, now he is sober, says himself he thinks 
 he was mistaken. But at that time, being 
 amazed, he made all the haste he could to- 
 wards the house, when who should he meet, 
 at the end of the private walk, but Don Felix. 
 He told his lordship what he had seen, or 
 
HILDEBRAND. 135 
 
 supposed he had seen ; and they then turned 
 back together, under Don Felix's direction, 
 to the spot where the cavaliers had met. 
 There they saw them in deep converse, and, 
 parting presently, they took leave of each 
 other in a most friendly sort, shaking hands 
 cordially. Captain Hildebrand kept his eyes 
 on his friend, according to Adam's report, 
 till he had passed out of sight, when he turned 
 round, and beheld Don Felix." 
 
 *' What then ?" inquired Sir Edgar. 
 
 '* Don Felix, Sir," continued Martha, 
 " acting on the testimony of Adam, called the 
 captain a spy. Some further words passed, 
 and in the end they fought.'* 
 
 ''Did Felix kill him?" cried Evaline, 
 clasping her hands convulsively together. 
 
 " No, lady," answered Martha ; " but the 
 captain had nearly killed Don Felix. He dis- 
 armed him ; and, giving him back his sword, 
 told him he spared his life, and turned away. 
 He has not been seen since." 
 
136 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 There was a moment's pause, when Eva- 
 line, in an under tone, asked her father if it 
 would not be advisable to stop the carriage, 
 and see if Don Felix really knew what had 
 become of their missing guest. Sir Edgar, 
 however, thought such a step would be ex- 
 tremely unwise, as he felt certain that Don 
 Felix knew no more of the cavalier than was 
 known to themselves, and, by stopping the 
 carriage to confer with him, they would 
 awaken suspicion in the minds of the two 
 constables, who doubtless had directions to 
 watch them closely, without serving or an- 
 swering any reasonable purpose. But he 
 expressed his determination, with some 
 warmth, to investigate the matter thoroughly 
 on their arrival at Exeter, and to make Don 
 Felix account for his conduct in every in- 
 dividual particular. 
 
 This was but poor satisfaction to Evaline, 
 whose generous nature, ever ready to sympa- 
 thise with the oppressed or the unhappy, was 
 
HILDEBRAND. 137 
 
 in this case more than usually alive to tender 
 emotions, the suffering party being, in her 
 estimation, the preserver of her life and 
 honour, and a person whom she knew to be 
 possessed of many estimable qualities. Never- 
 theless, she did not press her proposal on 
 her father, but contented herself, as well as 
 she could, with what he had promised, being 
 assured that he was better qualified to clear 
 up the mystery than she was, and was, more- 
 over, as warmly interested for Hildebrand as 
 herself. 
 
 It was dark by the time they arrived at 
 Exeter. This made the prison, at all times 
 a gloomy edifice, look more terrible and for- 
 bidding than it was; and hope seemed to 
 pause before the grim and relentless frown of 
 its portal. 
 
 A loud knock, inflicted by one of the con- 
 stables, brought forth the gaoler, and caused 
 him to open the well-secured gate. Sir 
 Edgar and Evaline, leaving Martha in the 
 
138 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 carriage, then alighted, and, accompanied by 
 Don Felix, and Adam Green, his valet, and 
 attended by the two constables, passed to the 
 interior of the prison. 
 
 An apartment was quickly prepared for 
 Sir Edgar's reception. Evaline could not 
 repress a tear as she surveyed it, yet the 
 gaoler, no less from a respect which he had 
 for Sir Edgar's rank, than from a conviction 
 that he would be liberally remunerated for 
 any kindness he might show him, had really 
 taken some pains to set it in order, and had 
 made it as comfortable as circumstances 
 would permit. 
 
 The air struck coldly on the delicate frame 
 of Sir Edgar, but he would not suffer Eva- 
 line, who saw its effect upon him, and sought 
 to pass the night with him in the prison, to 
 remain with him more than a few moments, 
 but entreated her to leave him to himself till 
 the morning, and endeavour to obtain some 
 repose. A mounted servant had been de- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 139 
 
 spatched, immediately on their arrival in 
 Exeter, to engage for her a suitable lodging, 
 and this had been secured, and was now, by 
 his report, ready for her reception. Evaline 
 would fain have stayed with her father a short 
 time further, but he so urged her to retire, 
 that she was obliged, however reluctantly, to 
 accede to his wishes. Before she retired, 
 however, she reminded Sir Edgar of the 
 promise he had made her, during their pro- 
 gress to Exeter, that he would strictly ques- 
 tion Don Felix concerning the disappearance 
 of Hildebrand Clifford ; and begged that he 
 would do so without delay. 
 
 " Fear not but I will, dear," whispered her 
 father in reply ; " though I have no hope, 
 from all we have heard, that he knows more 
 of the cavalier than we do. But good night! 
 and God, in his goodness, bless and protect 
 you, my darling !" 
 
 Evaline would not trust herself to speak ; 
 but she pressed her pale lips, cold and trem- 
 
140 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 bling as they were, on her father's cheek, and 
 broke hastily away. 
 
 She had never parted from hirn this way 
 before ; and in the cold, dark night, to pass 
 out of that gloomy prison, and leave him 
 within, was a severe and terrible trial. As 
 she took her seat in the carriage, it rose 
 before her in its blackest colours, and, un- 
 able any longer to restrain her feelings, she 
 buried her face in her hands, and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 She continued to weep till the carriage 
 drew up at the door of her hostel ; for Mar- 
 tha, though sympathising with her most cor- 
 dially, was too deeply moved herself to offer 
 consolation to another, and could only show 
 her sympathy by her tears. Nevertheless, 
 she did not suffer her distress, deep as it was, 
 to render her forgetful of her duty, or to 
 make her neglect those little attentions which 
 were called for by the occasion, no less than 
 the custom of her office. As the carriage- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 141 
 
 door was opened, she assisted her mistress to 
 alight, and, following her into the house, at- 
 tended her to her chamber. Having helped 
 her to undress, she bade her a sincere good- 
 night, and retired. 
 
 Hope has a powerful influence over young 
 hearts, and, in the development of this in- 
 fluence, often manifests a more sterling ex- 
 cellence than we are apt to suppose. It is 
 hope — often, indeed, founded on the dictates 
 of piety, or the whispers of reason, but still 
 hope — hope that we may yet, with all our 
 afflictions, rely for aid on the presiding hand 
 of Providence, or that we may find circum- 
 stances more supportable than we had thought 
 — it is still hope, in whatever form, that lends 
 the soothing balm to ev^ery sorrow, and the 
 first breath of buoyancy to every sinking 
 heart. 
 
 When her attendant had retired, and Eva- 
 line was left wholly to herself, she opened 
 her heart to Him who could appreciate its 
 
142 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 excellence: and she rose from her kuees with 
 a humble reliance on His mercy, and submis- 
 sion to His will, that took from the blast of 
 misfortune more than half its edge. As she 
 pressed her fair cheek to her pillow, she 
 thought of the many great blessings which, 
 notwithstanding the sorrow of her present 
 situation, she still owed to the bountiful hand 
 of the Almighty ; she remembered that she 
 was yet possessed of health, station, perfect- 
 ness of body and mind, and a liberal fortune ; 
 and out of the pious remembrance of the 
 benefits she had received from Heaven, and 
 which, though they might appear slight to 
 some, really comprehended the chief objects 
 of human desire, arose a hope of brighter 
 days, and a promise of renewed enjoyment. 
 The emotion awakened by her grateful sense 
 of the favours of Providence, though of the 
 very gentlest kind, called into action the best 
 and noblest feelings of her heart, and these 
 supported her under the affliction of the 
 
HILDEBRAND. 143 
 
 day, and nerved her with fortitude to meet 
 the morrow. 
 
 She rose early in the morning, after a sound 
 and refreshing sleep ; and having, with the 
 aid of Martha, fulfilled a brief toilet, hastened 
 to join her father. She found him alone, and, 
 like herself, more cheerful than on the pre- 
 vious night. There was even a smile on his 
 lip as he pressed her in his arms ; and they 
 sat down to their morning meal, which showed 
 no lack of provision, with some savour^ of 
 contentment. 
 
 But Evaline had something at heart that 
 prevented her from eating. She forbore 
 speaking for a time, hoping that her father 
 would mention the subject: but at last, un- 
 able to restrain her impatience, or, to speak 
 more correctly, her anxiety, she broke the 
 silence. 
 
 '* Didst thou put Felix to the question, 
 father? " she inquired. 
 
 *' 1 did," answered Sir Edgar, ''but gleaned 
 
144 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 no more from him, in answer to my inquiries, 
 than we knew before. He cannot even con- 
 jecture how the cavalier hath disappeared." 
 
 *' I do fear me, Sir, he is a revengeful man," 
 said Evaline, hesitatingly. 
 
 «* No, no, thou wrongest him," replied Sir 
 Edgar. ** 'Tis true, he hath taken a dislike 
 to the cavalier ; but 'tis because he thinks, 
 all things regarded together, that he is one of 
 the Government spies. And thou knowest, 
 Evaline, the country is overrun with these 
 folk." 
 
 ** I'll be sworn he is no spy, Sir," said Eva- 
 line, earnestly. " But where is Felix now ?" 
 
 " At my desire, he has ridden over to the 
 Grange," answered Sir Edgar, '« with the 
 view of making every possible inquiry for 
 the cavalier, wherever there is any chance, 
 from the little we know of him, of obtaining 
 the least information. Old Adam was to 
 have gone with him ; but I have, on reflec- 
 tion, sent him on to London, to bear the 
 
HILDEBRAND. 145 
 
 tidings of my arrest to Master Gilbert, the 
 attorney." 
 
 '' The cavalier may have returned to the 
 Grange, when Felix arrives there," remarked 
 Evaline. " He cannot — I am sure, he can- 
 not be a spy." 
 
 '« Indeed, I think with thee, Evaline," said 
 Sir Edgar. ** I begin to fear he hath met 
 with some mischance." 
 
 Though Evaline had feared the same thing 
 over and over again, her father's utterance 
 of these words, whether because they took 
 her by surprise, or because of the confirma- 
 tion which they afiForded to her worst and 
 least welcome expectations, shot a thrill of 
 the keenest anguish through her anxious 
 bosom. That one who, at the imminent risk 
 of his own life, had preserved the lives of 
 herself and her father, and afterwards so 
 nobly spared that of her cousin — who was 
 so courageous, so high-minded, and so en- 
 gaging — so admirably endowed both in per- 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 son and heart — should, as it were, under 
 their roof, incur the least possible hurt, was 
 certainly sufficient to stir and agitate the 
 deepest spring-s of her nature. If it had been 
 herself, or even her father, who was far 
 dearer to her than herself, that had received 
 some severe personal injury, she could not 
 have been more concerned than she was for 
 him. The long-er she thought of it, and the 
 more she perplexed herself with conjectures 
 on his fate, the more deeply and painfully 
 interesting did the subject become ; and, for 
 the first time in her life, she felt tiire a bur- 
 then, and wished to anticipate the morrow. 
 
 The day passed heavily on, and the even- 
 ing, like the darkness it foretokened, " drew 
 its slow length along." Yet there were no 
 tidings of Don Felix. The hour at which 
 the parent and his child must separate, and 
 which had all day appeared so remote and 
 tardy, now seemed to approach too quickly : 
 Martha and two male servants had already 
 
HILDEBRAND. 147 
 
 come to escort Evaline to her hostel ; and 
 still — still there was no intelligence from the 
 Spaniard. Evaline felt her heart beat more 
 anxiously, when the clatter of horses' feet, 
 which the stillness of the night reverberated 
 from the hard road without, struck distinctly 
 on her ear. Before she could make any re- 
 mark on the circumstance, the horses were 
 drawn up beneath the chamber-window, and 
 a loud knock was inflicted on the gaol-door. 
 
 '' 'Tis Felix ! " cried Evaline, starting up. 
 
 " Be patient, dear," said Sir Edgar, twin- 
 ing his arm round her slender waist. " Thou 
 art too anxious. Thou tremblest like an 
 aspen.'' 
 
 Evaline made no reply : she did not seek 
 even to release her waist, by which her emo- 
 tion had been betrayed, from her father's 
 clasp ; but, in this position, waited whatever 
 intelligence might be about to be com- 
 municated. 
 
 She was not kept long in suspense. In a 
 
 h2 
 
148 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 few minutes, the chamber-door was opened ; 
 and the gaoler, with a show of great deference, 
 introduced two cavaliers. One of these, who 
 was rather the taller of the two, E valine 
 recognised as the person who had been asso- 
 ciated, in his capacity of magistrate, with the 
 vindictive Shedlock, in the inquiry w^hich had 
 terminated in the committal of her father to 
 prison ; but the other was so closely muflfled in 
 a capacious riding-cloak, that she could not 
 even conjecture, from any point in his appear- 
 ance, who he could be. As the gaoler retired, 
 however, and left them by their four selves, he 
 threw back his cloak, and revealed the fea- 
 tures of Hildebrand Clifford. 
 
 Both Evaline and Sir Edgar gave a slight 
 start ; but their surprise, though greater than 
 can well be imagined, was quickly lost in 
 the excess of their joy. Evaline, who was 
 the first to recover herself, could hardly place 
 a check on her feelings, and was almost im- 
 pelled to spring to Hildebrand's side, and 
 
HILDEBRAND. 149 
 
 reveal her pleasure in the warmth of her 
 welcome. But she refrained from this pro- 
 cedure, though she could not repress a sweet 
 and modest blush, bright as the feelings it 
 expressed, which the excitement had called 
 from her heart, and which secretly re- 
 proached her for her eagerness and im- 
 petuosity. 
 
 But HiJdebrand needed not words to assure 
 him he was welcome. He saw at a glance, 
 not only that he was welcome, but that his 
 presence afforded his two friends the very 
 highest pleasure. He paused but a moment, 
 and then, with a smile on his lips, stepped 
 gracefully forward, and presented his left 
 hand to Sir Edgar, and his right to Evaline. 
 
 " We meet m a gloomy place," was all he 
 said. 
 
 " God's will be done!" said Sir Edgar, 
 bowing his head. 
 
 '* Hadst thou but told this gentleman, my 
 good and honoured friend, that the hand that 
 
150 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 brought thee to such a pass was Hildebrand 
 CliflFord's,*' resumed Hildebrand, " thou hadst 
 been safe in Neville Grange, Sir Edgar. But, 
 never care, Sir : all will go well now." 
 
 «* I knew neither his name, nor thine, my 
 friend," answered Sir Edgar, pressing his 
 hand. 
 
 " Mine I have told thee," said Hilde- 
 brand. '' This worthy cavalier is Sir Walter 
 Raleigh." 
 
 At these words, both Sir Edgar and Eva- 
 line, in spite of the conflicting feelings by 
 which they were agitated, turned a glance of 
 earnest curiosity on the face of Hildebrand's 
 companion; and, by the respect manifested 
 in their looks, showed that fame had truly 
 reported to them, in common with the world 
 at large, the honourable reputation of that 
 distinguished name. And the man whom 
 suspicion had regarded as a paltry adventurer, 
 or insinuated to be a spy, with whom no 
 person of character could safely associate, 
 
HILDEBRAND. 151 
 
 was the friend and companion of Sir Walter 
 Raleigh — one of the chief luminaries of the 
 age. A glow of pride suffused itself over 
 Evaline's cheek, as if she had received a per- 
 sonal honour, apart from the share in the 
 passing scene, in such a vindication of Hilde- 
 brand ; and when Sir Walter advanced to 
 accost her, she made a step forward to meet 
 him, and presented him her hand unasked. 
 
 " Things cannot but go well," said Sir 
 Walter, pressing her hand in his, " with so 
 noble a lady, and so honourable a knight." 
 
 " Will there be much delay. Sir ?" asked 
 Evaline, anxiously. 
 
 ** Will there be any r" said Sir Edgar. 
 
 " It may be all arranged to-morrow," an- 
 swered Sir Walter. " Our friend here has, 
 in the presence of two credible witnesses, 
 made oath to a statement in my hands, which 
 quite clears up the whole afifair. But should 
 there be any impediment in respect to Master 
 Shedlock, who, I fear me, bears thee no good 
 
152 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 will, I will undertake to overrule it, andj set 
 thee at large on mine own responsibility. 
 Furthermore, I will lay a true report of the 
 matter before the Lord-Treasurer, and put a 
 stop to all farther proceedings." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! thank you !" murmured 
 Evaline. 
 
 Sir Edgar, in more courtly terms, but with 
 the same deep feeling, also expressed his 
 grateful sense of Sir Walter's kindness, and 
 his concurrence in his arrangements. But 
 both his and E valine's joy, in its full extent, 
 was but short-lived ; for they now found that 
 their intercourse with Hildebrand had no 
 sooner been re-established, than it was, by an 
 unhappy necessity, to be again interrupted. 
 They learned that he was to set out on the 
 following morning for Carolina, with an ex- 
 pedition which, as was shown in the preceding 
 chapter, had been fitted out by Sir Walter 
 Raleigh, and only waited the presence of Hil- 
 debrand, who was its commander, to make 
 
HILDEBRAND. 153 
 
 sail. Evaline, in particular, was deeply 
 affected by this intelligence, but she mani- 
 fested her concern only in her looks ; for her 
 voice was too much agitated, and her heart 
 too full, under the pressure of so great a trial, 
 to give her feelings utterance. 
 
 Nor was Sir Edgar unmoved by the inform- 
 ation. To a man in his situation, the taking 
 away of any support, however slender, left 
 a vacuity, which could not but have a mate- 
 rial and decided influence on his fortune. 
 Still, as neither EJildebrand nor Sir Walter 
 thought that there would be any difficulty in 
 procuring his immediate enlargement, and it 
 was stated that the expedition had, from a 
 variety of causes, already been delayed so 
 long, that only its immediate despatch could 
 prevent its being utterly frustrated, he re- 
 frained from uttering all he really felt, and 
 restricted his expressions of regret to the 
 ordinary limits. 
 
 The cause of Hildebrand's mysterious dis- 
 
 h3 
 
154 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 appearance, which had afforded ground for 
 so much suspicion and conjecture, was ex- 
 plained to the knight and his daughter by Sir 
 Walter. From that explanation, they learned 
 that it was not his fault, as had seemed but 
 too apparent, that he had quitted the Grange 
 without the common ceremony of leave-taking, 
 but rather his misfortune. A vindictive per- 
 sonal enemy, to whom he offered some legal 
 obstruction, had hired two ruffians to kidnap 
 him ; and in the execution of this project, he 
 had been waylaid on the evening of his dis- 
 appearance, and carried off. The place in 
 which he was detained, however, had acci- 
 dentally been discovered by Sir Walter, and 
 he had enabled him to effect his escape, and 
 thus, for the time, to frustrate and overthrow 
 the design of his enemy. 
 
 By the time the explanation was fully ren- 
 dered, the night was, almost without the per- 
 ception of the four mutual friends, pretty far 
 advanced, and it became necessary to resolve 
 
HILDEBRAND. 155 
 
 on parting. After taking; leave of Sir Edgar, 
 Sir Walter and Hildebrand proposed that 
 they should not part with Evaline till they 
 had seen her to her hostel; and their pro- 
 posal, as the hour was very late, and she felt 
 diffident of trusting" herself abroad with only 
 her two servants, was gratefully embraced 
 by Ev^aline, and concurred in by Sir Edgar. 
 All things being arranged, therefore, they set 
 out, in company with Evaline's attendants, 
 in this order. 
 
 When the party reached the street, Sir 
 Walter fell a pace or two in the rear, and left 
 Hildebrand and Evaline, who were foremost, 
 to walk on by themselves. This he did, no 
 doubt, with the best possible intentions, but it 
 had not the effect he looked for on his two 
 young friends. It made Evaline uneasy, 
 though she knew not why ; and Hildebrand, 
 who had the moment before wished for such 
 an occasion, was confused, and knew not how 
 to turn it to account. Thus several minutes 
 
156 HILDEERAND. 
 
 elapsed ; and it was not till they arrived in 
 sight of the hostel, and Evaline had remarked 
 that they must soon part, that he could any 
 way collect himself. 
 
 " Dear lady," he then said, taking up the 
 hand that hung through his arm, "we part 
 directly, and, it may be, for a long interval. 
 May I think that thou wilt sometime bear roe 
 in remembrance ? " 
 
 " I were ungrateful. Sir, ever to forget 
 thee," said Evaline, with some emotion. 
 
 " No, no, but most generous to bear me in 
 memory," answered Hildebrand. *' Howbeit, 
 we are to part. Sir Edgar, methinks, has 
 now no cause to fear, and will be set at liberty 
 to-morrow. But the course of human affairs 
 is uneven, and cannot be relied on. If, 
 therefore, thou hast ever occasion for a ready 
 friend, who can do for thee more than thou 
 wouldst be disposed to think, let this billet — " 
 here he drew a sealed packet from his vest — 
 '* be conveyed to the direction on its cover, 
 
HILDEBRAND. 157 
 
 and such a one will be enlisted in thy ser- 
 vice." 
 
 Evaline, with the hand which she had at 
 liberty, accepted the proffered packet, but did 
 not make any observation. Hildebrand could 
 not refrain from pressing her hand, which, 
 led away by liis feelings, he still held in his, 
 and he fancied that the pressure was returned. 
 But if it were, it was done so slightly, and 
 with such excessive gentleness, that it could 
 hardly be felt, and could not be regarded as 
 any response. 
 
 At length they arrived at the hostel-door, 
 and the light which hung in the hall, falling 
 on Evaline's face, showed Hildebrand that 
 she was in tears. But, at this moment, they 
 were joined by Sir Walter, and, in a few words 
 they both took leave of Evaline, and turned 
 to retire. 
 
 They passed to the end of the street in 
 silence. There, as they were turning into 
 the street beyond, they encountered a squad- 
 
158 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 ron of troopers, and they were obliged to 
 press against the wall — for there was no 
 causeway to the street — in order that they 
 might have room to pass. The troopers were 
 not long in passing, and our two friends, 
 having the thoroughfare again open, then re- 
 sumed their progress. 
 
 Meantime, the troop of horse, headed by 
 a person in the garb of a civilian, passed 
 leisurely down the High-street, and pro- 
 ceeded towards the city-gaol. On arriving 
 thither, they drew up in its front ; and the 
 civilian aforementioned, dismounting from 
 his horse, inflicted a loud and authoritative 
 knock on the gate. 
 
 Sir Edgar de Neville was at this moment 
 preparing to retire to rest. Hearing a body 
 of horse drawn up beneath his casement, 
 however, and a knock that made the glass 
 ring, as if it would leap out of its crazy leaden 
 frame, inflicted on the gate, he came to a 
 pause. As he did so, a foreboding that the 
 
HILDEBRAND. 159 
 
 incident was some way connected with him- 
 self, in reference to the crime he was charged 
 with, insensibly stole over him, and he waited 
 the issue with the most intense anxiety. 
 
 At last he heard some heavy steps on the 
 adjacent stairs. The next moment, the door 
 of his chamber was pushed open, and a tall, 
 sharp-visaged man, habited in a suit of deep 
 brown, and attended by three soldiers, passed 
 in. Advancing a few paces, he held out a 
 folded paper to Sir Edgar ; and the latter, 
 making a step forward, took it from him, and 
 drew it open. It was a warrant from Fran- 
 cis Walsingham, Secretary of State, ordering 
 him to be removed to the gaol of Newgate, in 
 London. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 A few boats' lengths from the quay of the 
 corporation of Exeter, in the port of Top- 
 sham, on the morning" posterior to the date of 
 the last chapter, there lay several gallant- 
 looking ships, of no ordinary size and bur- 
 then. 
 
 There were, as has been observed, several 
 of these ships, but only one of them has im- 
 mediate reference to our history ; and, there- 
 fore, it is to her aJone, at the present moment, 
 that we have to direct attention. 
 
 She was a large vessel, and, though fitted 
 up for the purposes both of war and traffic, 
 
HILDEBRAND. 161 
 
 had evidently been constructed, in the first 
 instance, chiefly with a view to making her 
 a sailer. This was not only manifest in the 
 rounding of her bows, which was, consider- 
 ing the practice of the time, rather sharply 
 turned, but also in a certain slanting in her 
 tall masts, giving her that look which, in 
 nautical parlance, is termed " rakish." Her 
 rig also, in the main, was adapted to develop 
 her sailing qualities, and was of that hybrid- 
 ous character called '' brigantine." But 
 although her builder had so laboured to 
 make her a fast vessel, she was still roomy, 
 and presented a more extensive interior than 
 one would have expected. Her forecastle 
 was lofty, as was also her after-deck, 
 or poop, rising a good height above her 
 deck ; and though she was low midships , 
 or in that part of her hull between the 
 forecastle and poop, this showed her di- 
 mensions to disadvantage. There were two 
 brass guns mounted on her forecastle, and 
 
162 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 two others, of rather a larger bore, on 
 her poop, which was further defended by a 
 long swivel-gun, peeping out on her stern. 
 With this latter part of the ship, where his 
 labours finished, the builder had taken con- 
 siderable pains, having adorned its outline 
 with a border of relievo flowers, enclosing, 
 about the centre of the elevation, an inge- 
 nious representation of three casements. The 
 two outer casements were represented to be 
 open, and here the artist had found room to 
 show his knowledge of details ; the ideal 
 aperture of the two casements, by the intro- 
 duction of some white paint at the top, in 
 contradistinction to the original ground of 
 black, exhibiting the mingled effects of light 
 and shade. Immediately beneath these case- 
 ments, in large old English characters, was 
 the ship's name, thus : — 
 
 The day had yet hardly opened at the time 
 
HILDEBRAND. 163 
 
 we mark the position and general appearance 
 of this goodly ship. Nevertheless, the deck 
 was not vacant, and sounds arose from below, 
 both fore and aft, that proclaimed the whole 
 crew to be up and stirring. In the after part 
 of the ship, in particular, one could dis- 
 tinguish sounds of mirth and festivity, and 
 occasionally there would rise from the cabin 
 a shout of laughter, that no human heart 
 could have heard unmoved^ It has been said 
 that the deck was not vacant, and, indeed, it 
 presented, in the fore part of the ship, a very 
 varied picture of human feelings and passions. 
 There might be seen, in the faces of the 
 several persons scattered around, the indica- 
 tions of the most conflicting sentiments — 
 the traces of hope, sorrow, love, eagerness, 
 and expectation. There, among others, 
 stood the father, whispering his parting in- 
 junctions to his child ; the wife giving her 
 farewell prayers to her husband ; the lover 
 pouring hope into the heart of his sobbing 
 
164 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 mistress; and the daring, thoughtless, and 
 eager adventurer, free from care, and over- 
 flowing with buoyancy, caroling some light 
 love-song, and looking forward with impa- 
 tience to a time of peril and action. 
 
 On the after-deck there were but two per- 
 sons. One of these, who wore the garb of a 
 common seaman, was on the watch, or, rather, 
 as the ship was not at sea, and so kept no 
 regular watch, stood as a sort of sentry, to 
 overlook and preserve the general order. 
 The other person was walking to and fro ; 
 and was evidently, to judge from his dress 
 and bearing, of a station superior to any on 
 the deck. Indeed, he was no other than 
 Master Halyard, the lieutenant, or, as he 
 loved to be called for shortness. Master 
 Benjamin Halyard, mariner. 
 
 In person Master Halyard afforded little 
 ground for remark. He was of the middle 
 size, and, though somewhat inclined to be 
 over broad, well limbed, and fairly proper- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 165 
 
 tioned. His countenance, notwithstanding 
 that it was somewhat weather-beaten, was 
 good-looking — not only because its individual 
 features were good, but because of the light- 
 ness, buoyancy, and goodnature that were 
 visible in every line of its general expression. 
 These few words are sufficient to give au idea 
 of his appearance ; and his character, so far 
 as it need be mentioned here, may be treated 
 as summarily. Nevertheless, it was not with- 
 out singularity, or traits that insured it re- 
 spect and attention. If his manners were 
 rough, his heart was kind and compassionate ; 
 and though he was slow to plan, he was 
 prompt to act, and never flinched in the hour 
 of peril. Indeed, he always kept in view, for 
 his guidance through the vicissitudes of life, 
 a maxim that raised him above fear, by re- 
 minding him that troubles were but of brief 
 duration, and that good and evil alike must 
 ultimately come to an end. This maxim he 
 had always at hand, and, whenever occasion 
 
166 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 served, be never failed to set forth, in his very 
 loudest tone of voice, that " life is but short: 
 let us live well on the road, says the gentle 
 shepherd of Salisbury plain." The spirit of 
 his maxim he enforced, not only by constantly 
 repeating it, but by the effect of his own ex- 
 ample, on every one under his control, 
 although his general disposition, to borrow a 
 phrase of his own, was " no ways particular," 
 and rarely inclined him to interfere with 
 others. 
 
 Such was the man who, at the time already 
 specified, walked to and fro on the quarter- 
 deck of the '' Eliza," smoking a short pipe as 
 he passed along. He had, however, taken but 
 two or three turns of the deck, when the 
 look-out man, coming right in his path, 
 brought him to a stand. 
 
 '' 'Tis four of the clock, master," said the 
 look-out man 
 
 " Ah, Tom Tarpaulin," answered the lieu- 
 tenant, quickly, for it was necessary to give 
 
HILDEBRAND. 167 
 
 hisorders with promptitude; ''life is but short, 
 let us Jive well on the road, says the gentle 
 shepherd of Salisbury plain. Strike eight 
 bells !'' 
 
 ** Ay, ay, Sir!" replied Tarpaulin. 
 
 Quick as thought, he skipped up the poop, 
 and ran to a frame of wood-work, about three 
 feet high, that stood in front of the compass- 
 box. From this hung a large bell, which he 
 seized round the top ; and taking up a ham- 
 mer that lay beneath, he struck on the inside 
 of the bell eight distinct taps, thereby signify- 
 ing to the crew, in the manner they best un- 
 derstood, that it was four o'clock. 
 
 Hardly had the bell given utterance to the 
 eighth stroke, when Halyard, turning his face 
 towards the forecastle, desired tlie men for- 
 ward to give a call for the boatswain. The 
 boatswain, however, being within hearing, 
 forestalled all further calls, and presented 
 himself on the quarter-deck before any voice 
 had been raised but the lieutenant's. 
 
168 HILDEERAND. 
 
 " Ay, ay, Sir ! " he cried. 
 
 " Pipe all hands to heave up the anchor," 
 said the lieutenant. 
 
 '' Ay, ay, Sir ! " answered the boatswain. 
 
 And while the accents were yet on his lips, 
 he drew forth an earthenware whistle, gaily 
 trimmed with silver, from the waistband of 
 his canvas trousers, and , raising it to his mouth, 
 made the air ring with its shrill and ear- 
 piercing notes. 
 
 All was now bustle throughout the ship. 
 Not only forward, but aft, the summons of 
 the boatswain was obeyed, and four persons 
 came up the hatchway from the chief cabin 
 who wore the garb of gentlemen. Among 
 these were Hildebrand Clifford, the captain, 
 and his friend Sir Walter Raleigh ; but the 
 others appeared to have no connection with 
 the ship, and to have come there only as Sir 
 Walter's friends. 
 
 Just as they stepped on the deck, the boat- 
 swain brought his whistle to a close, and re- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 169 
 
 placed the pipe, to call it by its nautical name, 
 in the band of his trousers. 
 
 *' All hands heave up the anchor 1" he 
 cried. 
 
 Pursuant to this order, the crew all hurried 
 
 to the quarter-deck, where, directly in front 
 
 of the poop, at an deviation of about five feet 
 
 from the deck, stood the capstan, by means 
 
 of which the anchor was to be raised. This 
 
 was quickly rig-ged with some half-dozen 
 
 levers, about three feet apart, and the sailors 
 
 planted themselves behind the levers, two or 
 
 three abreast, and waited the signal to begin. 
 
 *' Give way, my hearts!" cried Hildebrand, 
 
 who now took the command : '' Give way ! " 
 
 There was no reply to this order, but the 
 
 sailors, grasping a firmer hold of the several 
 
 levers, at once obeyed, wheeling gaily round 
 
 the capstan, and singing with one voice as 
 
 they progressed : — 
 
 " Yo, ho, yo ! merriman, hoy ! 
 Yo, ho, hoy ! merriman !" 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
170 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 Few of the various by-standers heard their 
 stirring chorus without emotion. In many of 
 them it raised the most bitter pang of tortured 
 affection — it was the knell of separation — the 
 first sad note of departure and parting. Still, 
 after a few moments' interval, when the first 
 thrills of affection had subsided, it had a 
 cheering influence, and many a pale face 
 around wore a smile, which, though tinged 
 with sadness, plainly showed that the heart 
 was full of hope and expectation. 
 
 At length, the cable was all hauled in, and 
 the anchor heaved up to the bows, and there, 
 with the aid of a stout chain, made secure. 
 The goodly bark was at liberty, and all but 
 her gallant crew were now to quit her deck. 
 
 lu the gangway, preparing to descend into 
 one of the boats that were alongside, stood 
 Sir Walter Raleigh, and his two friends. The 
 two latter had already bidden Hildebrand 
 farewell, but Sir Walter, who was the fore- 
 most of the three, held him by the hand still. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 171 
 
 " I will bear it in mind, worthy Master 
 Clifford," he said, in an under tone. *' Shed- 
 lock shall never know from me, or any but 
 thyself, aught that hath passed, though, by 
 my lady's hand, I could tear the knave's 
 heart from his body, if 'twere but to see what 
 'tis made of." 
 
 *' Indeed, 'twould be to my disadvantage 
 just now, noble Sir, that he should know I 
 am thy poor friend," said Hildebrand. 
 
 '' It might, it might! " observed Sir Wal- 
 ter, " Have no doubt of my secresy. Fare- 
 well, and God keep thee, my friend ! " 
 
 " Farewell I farewell ! " said Hildebrand. 
 
 They shook hands again, and, this done. Sir 
 Walter and his friends, without further ob- 
 servation, descended to their boat. All the 
 other strangers had departed before, and none 
 but her proper crew remained on board the 
 '' Eliza." 
 
 Once parted from his friends, Hildebrand 
 stepped quickly across the deck, and mounted 
 
 i 9. 
 
172 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 to the poop. Glancing forward, he perceived 
 that the white sails were all loosened, and 
 were beginning to expand to the wind : the 
 men were scattered in groups, in different 
 parts of the ship ; and every eye, from 
 Master Halyard's downwards, was turned 
 wistfully on him. As he observed the gene- 
 ral attention, Hildebrand doffed his plumed 
 hat, and raised it gaily in the air. 
 
 '' One cheer for merry England !" he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 There was a dead pause for a moment : 
 then the welkin rang with a hearty hurrah ! 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Six weeks elapsed before the good ship** Eliza" 
 again made the land. Then the heights of 
 Maryland rose to the view, and on the fol- 
 lowing morning, at an early hour, she made 
 Cape Fear. Passing Virginia, she sailed 
 slowly along the coast of Carolina, and at 
 last, after a very fair passage, came to an 
 anchor at Roanoke. 
 
 Roanoke island, a little to the south of 
 Albemarle Sound, and somewhat further 
 south of Dismal Swamp, was Sir Walter 
 Raleigh's plantation, and the first of the 
 British settlements in North America. It 
 
174 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 had been established several years, but was, 
 nevertheless, yet in its infancy, and the 
 arrival of a ship from dear old England 
 naturally excited in the colony the liveliest 
 sensation. Long and long before she came 
 to an anchor, and while she was yet far in 
 the offing, every human creature in Roanoke 
 had made her the subject of their every 
 thought, and conjecture had deemed no point 
 in her appearance too small for the exercise 
 of its powers. Boats put off to meet her miles 
 out, and, as she neared the island, a whole 
 fleet of this craft, comprising every class of 
 galley and canoe, hovered round her, and, 
 though no one was allowed to come on board, 
 all the news from England was known in 
 every boat before the ship anchored. 
 
 Once anchored, Hildebrand lost no time, 
 after he had completed his arrangements, in 
 communicating with the shore, and landing 
 the supplies which Sir Walter had sent out. 
 The process of unloading occupied him a 
 
HILDEBRAND. 11f5 
 
 whole week, and by the time that he had 
 taken in his return cargo, and procured fresh 
 provisions, two weeks more had elapsed. Ne- 
 vertheless, the ship which Sir Walter Raleigh 
 had promised to send him as a companion, 
 that he might be better able to cope with the 
 Spaniards, and which he knew to have been 
 nearly ready when he sailed from England, 
 had not made her appearance, and there 
 became reason to suppose that she had in- 
 curred some mishap. Another week elapsed, 
 and still there was no sign of her coming, 
 and Hildebrand began to fear, from the in- 
 formation he had had previous to leaving 
 England, that, if he delayed much longer, the 
 Spanish fleet would escape him, and arrive 
 at Cadiz before he could cross the Atlantic 
 This reflection determined him to make no 
 further delay, and accordingly, amidst the 
 hearty cheers of the colonists, he weighed 
 anchor, and made all sail for the Atlantic. 
 After three weeks' sail, the " Eliza" came in 
 
176 
 
 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 sight of the Azores, and, holding ofiF the land, 
 cruized in the offing- for three weeks more ; 
 but saw no trace of the Spanish fleet. 
 Anxious and disappointed, Hlldebrand began 
 to fear that it must have passed ; and he 
 resolved, after a little hesitation, and a con- 
 ference with Master Halyard, who was of the 
 same opinion as himself, to run for Cadiz, 
 where he would be able to ascertain if his 
 conjectures were well founded. 
 
 A favourable wind soon brought him to 
 Cadiz. On entering the harbour, he saw the 
 fleet had not arrived, though there were, to 
 his surprise, several large ships lying in-shore, 
 evidently preparing for some expedition. 
 Being only in search of the Mexican fleet, 
 however, Hildebrand would have put to sea 
 again, but he was obliged, however it might 
 assort with his design, to make some stay, lest 
 he should excite suspicion, and so be pre- 
 vented from departing at all. 
 
 But, though he came to an anchor, he kept 
 
HILDEBRAND. 177 
 
 a good distance from the shore, and made all 
 ready against any visit from the authorities. 
 From whatever cause, however, he did not 
 receive such a visit, and on the foUowinj? 
 morning he ventured to go on shore. 
 
 Leaving his boat at the mole, he passed up 
 to the quay, and thence to the city. As he 
 progressed, he found the ^hole city, from 
 one end to the other, rife with those prepara- 
 tions which, previous to his landing, he had 
 observed along the shore; and he became 
 curious to know what could be the object 
 of so formidable an armament. But when« 
 ever he was about to make it the subject 
 of inquiry, he found that he was closely 
 attended by two cavaliers, whose faces, from 
 their wearing their cloaks in the Spanish 
 fashion, and having their slouched hats pulled 
 over their brows, he could not well dis- 
 tinguish. Their appearance, however, caused 
 him to refrain from any inquiry, and ulti- 
 
 i3 
 
178 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 mately drove him to the quay, and induced 
 him to return to his ship. 
 
 The next day Hildebrand again visited the 
 city. He had not gone far, when, happen- 
 ing to look behind him, he found that the 
 two vigilant cavaliers were on his heels once 
 more. This brought him to a stand, and he 
 resolved, since he could not shake them off, 
 to let them pass him, and then return to his 
 boat. They passed him without hesitation, 
 and, having watched them a few yards, he 
 turned quickly round, and made off. In his 
 hurry, however, he took a wrong turning, 
 and, instead of finding himself on the quay, 
 he came to a halt in front of the cathedral. 
 
 There was no time for deliberation : to 
 return, even if he could make out the way, 
 would be but to seek the two persons who 
 had been watching him ; whereas, if he passed 
 into the cathedral, he would find a covert for 
 the moment, and, after a short interval, 
 might return unobserved. This view of the 
 
niLDEBRANt). 179 
 
 matter no sooner occurred to him, than, with 
 his accustomed decision, he resolved on the 
 latter course ; and straightway entered the 
 cathedral. 
 
 High mass was in course of celebration at 
 the moment of his entrance. The chapel in 
 which the service was performed, being dedi- 
 cated to our Lady, was in high favour with 
 the people of Cadiz, and, therefore, was well 
 attended. But though a small structure, it 
 was not so full but that some seats were un- 
 occupied ; and Hildebrand, directly they 
 incurred his notice, took possession of one of 
 these without ceremony. 
 
 As he sat down, his side adjoined the cha- 
 pel-aisle, which divided him, by only a few 
 paces, from another row of seats, placed lon- 
 gitudinally. Thus, the occupiers of these 
 seats, so far as they were opposite to him, 
 faced Hildebrand, and could make no one 
 movement that did not incur his observa- 
 tion. 
 
180 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 One of these seats, a little in his advance, 
 was occupied by a young lady and her 
 duenna, who, at his very first entry, attracted 
 Hildebrand's whole attention. She was tall 
 for a Spaniard, but this did not reduce, but 
 rather augmented, the dignity of her mien, 
 and gave a more bewitching grace to her ex- 
 quisite proportions. From the manner in 
 which she wore her mantilla, which, turned 
 over the back of her head and shoulders, 
 fell down over only one arm, these could be 
 partly distinguished, and, certainly, the most 
 fastidious taste could not but admire ail that 
 was visible. Her bust was rounded so accu- 
 rately, in every turn of its outline, from 
 her throat downwards, that the figure which 
 painters call the line of beauty could be traced 
 through all its proportions. But this incurred 
 little notice, if one could gaze on (he more 
 attractive loveliness of her face. In her large 
 eyes, indeed, there was a charm, dark and 
 resistless as the frown of death, that fell on 
 
HILDEBKAND. 181 
 
 the eyes of others with a magnetic effect, and 
 seemed to absorb all light in their own. 
 Above, her arched eyebrows, though as black 
 as night themselves, appeared to melt away 
 into the full radiance of morning, which lent 
 to her high forehead its most roseate colours, 
 and most captivating sweetness. Then the 
 light was again broken by her sparkling raven 
 hair, which, parted in the middle, was turned 
 in a profusion of curls behind her ears. It 
 made itself visible, however, once more^ 
 on the side where her mantilla was raised, in 
 its fall downwards, which brought a cluster 
 of three or four ringlets on her neck and 
 bosom. This rather added to> than weakened, 
 the charm of her complexion, and its soft 
 mellow tints derived from the contrast of 
 light and shade a new fascination, and a more 
 striking and bewitching beauty. Its general 
 effect was, on a closer survey, also heightened 
 by the warm blood that played in her cheeks, 
 and by the more dazzling red of her lips, 
 
182 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 which 
 
 Grew together, 
 
 Like to a double cherry, seeming parted; 
 
 But yet a union in partition, — 
 
 Two lovely berries moulded on one stem. 
 
 Hildebrand's were not the only eyes that 
 the young lady had captivated. Whether, 
 however, it was owing to his tall person being 
 more remarkable, or to the fact of his being 
 a stranger, or to both causes combined, he 
 alone had the good fortune, if such it were, 
 to receive from the fair maiden any degree of 
 encouragement. The first time her eyes met 
 his, her glance was not, it is true, free from 
 some savour of disdain ; but it brightened as 
 it passed over his handsome features, and 
 gradually assumed a softer and responsive 
 sparkle. Several times afterwards, in the 
 course of the tedious service, he met her 
 glance, and each time it wore a more tender 
 tone, and brought to her warm cheeks a live- 
 lier blush. At last, the service was con- 
 cluded, and the lady, together with her 
 duenna, rose to retire. Hildehrand followed 
 
HILDEBRAND. 183 
 
 her with his eyes till she reached the church- 
 porch. As she was making her egress, she 
 turned round, and again bent her eyes on his. 
 
 Hildebrand was riveted to the spot: the next 
 moment, the lady passed out ; and, though 
 he hastened after her, she had gone out of 
 sight when he reached the church-porch, and 
 left no vestige behind. 
 
 Hildebrand returned to his boat with some 
 sense of disappointment. This was lessened, 
 however, on reflection, as it occurred to him 
 that his visit to the cathedral had, at least, had 
 the effect of misleading the two persons who 
 had been watching him, and with whose at- 
 tendance he could well dispense. But he did 
 not remember, what must have removed all 
 sense of disappointment, that his stay in Cadiz 
 could not be prolonged above a day or two, 
 and, therefore, that he would have no oppor- 
 tunity of pursuing the adventure which his 
 visit to the cathedral had opened. A thought 
 of Evaline de Neville, it is true, pierced his 
 
184 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 bosom with something like the sting of self- 
 reproach, but the remembrance of the last 
 parting look of the fair Spaniard counter- 
 acted its effect, and made her alone the sub- 
 ject of his reflections. 
 
 The next day, he resolved to visit the 
 cathedral again. He endeavoured to per- 
 suade himself, in answer to some scruples and 
 reproofs of conscience, that he was actuated 
 in this step by a higher motive than the pur- 
 suit of an intrigue, and that his real object 
 was to ascertain, under the cloak of an in- 
 trigue, what was the destined purpose of that 
 great and formidable armament, which, on 
 his first arrival, he had observed to be in pro- 
 gress, and had since found to be employing 
 the whole energies of Spain. And, though it 
 was not his principal object, he really was 
 desirous to acquire this information ; for if, 
 as he conjectured, the armament was designed 
 to reinforce the Duke of Parma, in Flanders, 
 it was highly advisable that the fact of its 
 
HILDEBRAND. 185 
 
 being on foot should be immediately commu- 
 nicated to the court of England. Still, it 
 must be owned, it was more his admiration of 
 the fair Spaniard, than his jealousy of Spa- 
 nish armaments, that led him again to the 
 cathedral. 
 
 The service had begun when he entered the 
 sacred edifice. Advancing to the seat he had 
 occupied the previous morning, he perceived 
 that the young lady and her duenna were 
 already settled in their seats, and, so far as 
 outward appearances testified, engaged in 
 their devotions. But though he was gratified 
 at their punctual attendance, his gratification 
 was not without alloy ; for the young lady, 
 from whatever reason, wore a close veil over 
 her face, and he did not receive one glance 
 from her during the whole service. He was, 
 however, unable to keep his eyes from her, 
 and, on the service being concluded, they 
 followed her, as on the day previous, to the 
 church-porch. Slie would, he thought, at 
 
186 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 least give him a parting glance ; she would 
 at least raise her veil as she made her egress ; 
 but she passed out without so much as look- 
 ing round. 
 
 HJldebrand's cheeks glowed with resent- 
 ment, not unmingled with shame, as his vanity 
 received this mortifying blow. He was so 
 taken aback, indeed, that he remained rooted 
 to his seat, and it was not till the silence 
 around warned him that he was almost the 
 only person in the chapel, and, consequently, 
 that it was high time to take his departure, 
 that the first effects of his disappointment be- 
 gan to subside. Then, gathering his cloak 
 about him, he sprang to his feet, and walked 
 hastily forth. 
 
 As he was passing through the church- 
 porch, he felt some one touch him behind. 
 Turning round, his eye fell on an old woman, 
 in whom, de.-pite of her close veil, he im- 
 mediately recognised the Spanish maiden's 
 duenna. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 187 
 
 " Senhor," said this person, " thou hast 
 made me wait long : 1 have a billet for thee." 
 
 And, drawing- her hand from under her 
 mantilla, she disclosed a sealed billet, which, 
 without further speech, she placed in his 
 eager hands. 
 
 " Thanks, thanks!" answered Hildebrand, 
 slipping a ring from his finger, and dropping 
 it into the withered palm of the duenna. 
 
 The latter person, quietly closing* her hand 
 over her costly guerdon, raised its forefinger 
 to her lips, and, with this caution, broke away. 
 
 It may well be supposed, from his previous 
 demeanour, that Hildebrand's impatience to 
 view and peruse the welcome billet was ex- 
 cessive. Fearful that he might be watched, 
 however, he restrained his curiosity, and held 
 the billet close in his hand, under the fold of 
 his cloak, till he reached a retired part of the 
 city-quay. Then, drawing- it forth, he tore 
 it open and read these words : — 
 
 " If thy looks belie not thy heart, and thou 
 
188 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 canst love truly, be under the porch of the 
 cathedral, at the southern entrance, this even, 
 at ten of the clock." 
 
 Hildebrand conned the billet over and 
 over again, each time, as though he were 
 really in love, viewing it more closely, and 
 discerning in its fair penmanship a fresh 
 grace. He did not hesitate a moment as to 
 the propriety of accepting the invitation ; in- 
 deed, in the excitement of the occasion, he 
 did not give it a thought. He only won- 
 dered how the adventure would end — only 
 thought how many hours, slow and tedious 
 as days, must precede the appointed hour ; 
 and sought to overlook their weariness with 
 the far-seeing eye of anticipation. 
 
 But the hour of the assignation arrived at 
 last. Punctual to the moment, Hildebrand 
 pushed across the cathedral-close, and pre- 
 sented himself at the southern porch. 
 
 It was a dark night, but still ; and, in this 
 retired quarter of the city, there was no per- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 189 
 
 son abroad. On taking his station in tiie porch, 
 Hildebrand thought it probable, from the tenor 
 of her note, that his unknown mistress might 
 be led by these circumstances to venture out, 
 and give him a meeting in the shadow of the 
 porch. But he was not left long to conjec- 
 ture. He had been in the porch but a few 
 minutes, when an approaching footstep, fol- 
 lowed by the rustling of drapery, saluted his 
 ear. The next moment, a female appeared in 
 sight : it was the old duenna. 
 
 " Art thou here before me, Senhor ? '' she 
 said, approaching him. " Now, Til swear, 
 from this impatience of thine, thy love is 
 honest, and should win thee thy lady's favour. 
 Nay, nay, be not so eager. Thou shalt see 
 her anon, I warrant you." 
 
 " Let it be straightway, then, Senhora, I 
 entreat thee," answered Hildebrand, slipping 
 a broad piece into her hand. 
 
 " Ay, ay, I am overfond, and ye both bend 
 me as ye will," answered the duenna. ** St. 
 
190 HILDEBRAIS D. 
 
 Jago have mercy on me ! I am afraid I do 
 not rig;ht." 
 
 " Nay, I'll warrant, in thy young- days, 
 thou hast had lovers thyself," observed Hilde- 
 brand ; " so thou canst not, with any honesty, 
 — and I'll swear thou artjight honest, — deny 
 them to thy fair young ward." 
 
 '' Well, indeed, thou speakest sooth," re- 
 turned the duenna ; " for I have, in my 
 younger days, had lovers enow ; and though 
 the time for such follies is almost past with 
 me," — she was full sixty years of age—*' it is 
 not so with Donna Inez. Be of good heart, 
 then, and follow me to her presence," 
 
 Uttering these words, the old duenna 
 turned away, and, with a quick step, passed 
 out into the cathedral-close. Hildebrand fol- 
 lowed her, a few paces in her rear, to a neigh- 
 bouring street, which led them to the other 
 end of the city. Here, turning into a by- 
 street, they passed along the outside of a 
 dead wall to a small doorway, inserted in 
 
HILDEBRAND. 191 
 
 the wall, some distance from any dwelling. 
 The old woman came to a stand before the 
 door, and, raising her hand over her eyes, 
 looked narrowly round, on either side, to see 
 that no one was about. It was very dark, 
 and she could not see far ; but she seemed, 
 after one glance around, to be satisfied on 
 this score, and turned to the door again. A 
 key which she drew from her vest, and inserted 
 in the lock, quickly opened the door, and she 
 whispered Hildebrand to enter. 
 
 Passing down two or three steps, Hilde- 
 brand found himself in a large garden, which 
 spread round, on either side of the walk he 
 was standing on, further than he could see. 
 Having ascertained this, he was turning to 
 look for his guide, when he descried the figure 
 of another female, somewhat taller than the 
 duenna, standing against a contiguous tree. 
 A thought struck him that it was his mistress, 
 and, without further pause, he sprang lightly 
 to her side. 
 
192 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 The lady's arms were folded in the fall of 
 her mantilla, but Hildebrand, gently pushing 
 that aside, easily possessed himself of her 
 trembling hand. As he did so, he came be- 
 fore her, and turned his eyes on her face. 
 
 Notwithstanding that he could not see very 
 clearly, he readily distinguished the adorable 
 features of his mistress, and the soft light that, 
 in defiance of the darkness, beamed in her 
 peerless eyes. He could not, perhaps, discern 
 the warm glow of confusion, mingled with 
 pleasure, that his presence had called to her 
 cheek, but her feelings were sufficiently re- 
 vealed to him by the trembling of her delicate 
 hand. Love, whose refined sensibilities are 
 entirely swayed by example, being so subject 
 to impulse, and the action of passing in- 
 fluences, would have responded to this con- 
 fusion ; and the rapture of the moment would 
 have been locked in silence, and only seen in 
 the excess of feeling. But Hildebrand was 
 only a gallant, not a lover ; and he was at no 
 
HILDEBRAND. 193 
 
 loss for words — earnest and musical, too, 
 though lacking in sincerity — in which he 
 could address his mistress. 
 
 Readiness of compliment is a characteristic 
 trait, if one may so speak, of that passion which 
 springs only from admiration, in contradis- 
 tinction to that which flows, with a gentler 
 wave, and a more constant and regular cur- 
 rent, from the purer source of affection. In 
 the one passion, all is but skin-deep; in the 
 other, it is heart-deep : the first is, like the 
 body, mortal ; but the other is an emblem 
 of the soul, and is quick, etherial, and un- 
 dying. 
 
 Clasping her hand in his, and drawing it 
 under his arm, Hildebrand first proceeded to 
 thank his mistress, in a few passionate words, 
 for the distinguished favour which she had 
 bestowed upon him, in the concession of an 
 interview. They moved onward while he 
 spoke, and presently, turning a sweep in the 
 walk, came in view of the lady's dwelling. 
 
 VOL. I. ^ 
 
194 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 Here Hildebrand would have paused ; but his 
 mistress, though she had till now beeu almost 
 a passive agent, and had hardly seemed to 
 exercise volition, continued to move on, and, 
 of course, drew him with her. 
 
 A few paces brought them to a flight of 
 steps, which, after a moment's hesitation, they 
 ascended, and passed over the landing to an 
 adjacent door. Raising the latch, the lady 
 pushed the door open, and disclosed a lighted 
 hall within. 
 
 " Follow, and say not a word I" she said. 
 
 She passed into the hall, and Hildebrand, 
 pursuant to her injunction, followed her in 
 silence. They crossed the hall on tiptoe, and 
 halted at the foot of a staircase, which, 
 dividing in the middle, ascended in two dis- 
 tinct flights, and opened into a sort of gallery, 
 or continuation of the landing, which ran 
 round three sides of the hall above. 
 
 The lady looked anxiously up the stairs, 
 on either side, and round the whole range of 
 
HILDEBBAND. 195 
 
 the hall, to see if any one was about, but 
 everything was still as death, and the hall 
 seemed to have no other inmates but them- 
 selves. Apparently satisfied on this point, 
 the lady moved forward again, and, with a 
 light but quick step, ascended to the gallery, 
 followed by her silent gallant. 
 
 At the summit of the stairs, a few feet from 
 the landing, was a narrow door, which the 
 lady opened. A flood of light poured 
 through the aperture, and, looking in, Hilde- 
 brand discovered a well-lighted and elegant 
 room, furnished as a sitting-chamber. The 
 lady held the door open, and Hildebrand, 
 perceiving that she wished him to enter first, 
 passed in. His companion followed in his 
 wake, and shut the door behind them. 
 
 Up to this moment. Donna Inez — for such 
 was the name of the fair Spaniard — had 
 spoken but once, and then only to request 
 Hildebrand to be silent. But the effects of 
 Hildebrand's first approach had now worn 
 
 k2 
 
196 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 ofiF, and the excitement of her progress from 
 the garden, through a part of the house which 
 might have exposed her to unfriendly obser^ 
 vation, and which, therefore, involved some 
 degree of peril, had re-nerved her, and her 
 features had lost all trace of confusion or 
 embarrassment. 
 
 As she closed the chamber-door, she turned 
 round, and fixed her eyes full on the face of 
 her gallant. 
 
 '' Thou art not an Andalusian," she said, 
 wistfully surveying his features, '' nor art 
 thou from Catalonia : wast born in Spain 
 at all ?" 
 
 '' No, lady," answered Hildebrand : ** I 
 am from the North." 
 
 " Ah, methought thou hadst not our ac- 
 cent,*' returned Donna Inez ; *' and yet, though 
 they be foreign, thine accents are good, and 
 become thee right well. Be the Northerns 
 true ?" 
 
 ** Thou wilt find me true, lady," replied 
 Hildebrand. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 197 
 
 ** Thou 'It say so, I warrant/' said Donna 
 Inez. And thrusting her hand under her 
 mantilla, she drew forth a small dag^ger, and 
 continued : — *' Regard thou the temper of 
 this steel ! Consider, while thou admirest its 
 flashing lustre, how ready it is to defend, and 
 how prompt to revenge I Canst thou be true 
 as this?" 
 
 '* Ay, truer !" answered Hildebrand, smiU 
 ing, and clasping her uplifted hand in his. 
 
 Firmly as she had clutched the dagger, the 
 small hand of Donna Inez relaxed, after one 
 vain effort, in the passionate grasp of Hilde- 
 brand. She turned her eyes on his face, but 
 it was not, as before, with the searching 
 glance of inquiry, but with a look of the full- 
 est confidence, mingled with overpowering 
 passion. There was nothing in the tone of 
 his face, however earnestly surveyed, but 
 might confirm her confidence ; the flush of 
 triumph on his cheek, and the excitement in 
 his eye, while they lent his countenance a 
 
198 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 more stirring animation, seemed to offer to 
 her his warmest sympathy, and to speak of 
 love that was as dear as life, and as true as 
 she could wish it. 
 
 Still holding her hand in his, Hildebrand 
 led her to a contiguous chair, and seated 
 himself by her side. Probably he would here ' 
 have followed up, by a few well-timed words* 
 the impression which he had made upon her 
 by his bearing ; but if he had resolved upon 
 this, he was prevented from carrying his in- 
 tention into effect. Just as he had taken his 
 seat beside her, the door of the chamber, 
 which was right opposite to where they were 
 sitting, was hastily pushed open, and the old 
 duenna rushed in. 
 
 *' Oh, Donna, child, thou art lost !" ex- 
 claimed the faithful governante, in broken 
 accents. *' Don Gonzalez has returned, and 
 is, alack ! even now upon the stairs, calling 
 for thee with all his main. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the embarrassment 
 
HILDEBRAND. 199 
 
 of the lovers on hearing this intelligence. 
 Hildebrand, it is true, did not know who Don 
 Gonzalez was, or precisely understand what 
 might be the e£fect of his arrival. But, though 
 he was unacquainted with the exact and par- 
 ticular nature of the danger, he clearly saw 
 that a danger impended, and that its conse- 
 quences might cause both Inez and himself 
 very serious annoyance. Inez viewed the 
 arrival of Don Gonzalez with still greater 
 concern. She had known him from her 
 childhood, when she was left, with a large 
 dower, to his uncontrolled guardianship, by 
 his younger brother, her father. Being thus 
 entirely at his disposal, and knowing him to 
 be a man of unscrupulous passions, and a 
 jealous and vindictive temper, she naturally 
 saw the danger in its blackest colours, and 
 was perfectly overwhelmed with anxiety and 
 apprehension. 
 
 " Alack !" she exclaimed, " I am indeed 
 undone ! Fly, Sir ! fly, I beseech thee !" 
 
200 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 " Madonna ! and how is he to fly, I 
 prithee ?" asked the duenna. ^' There is no 
 way out, I ween, but through this door, and 
 the tyrant will be on the threshold pre- 
 sently." 
 
 Startled by this intelligence, Hildebrand 
 glanced round in search of some place of 
 concealment, A large casement stood on 
 one side of the chamber, screened from ob- 
 servation by a flowing merino curtain, which 
 was fastened, about a foot below the roof, to 
 a pole of cedar, whence its ample folds fell to 
 the floor. This was the only covert that 
 presented itself, but Hildebrand thought that, 
 unless the jealous Spaniard should suspect 
 his ward to have been entertaining agallant, 
 and subject the chamber to a rigid search, it 
 might prove sufficient. 
 
 "Have no fear !" he said to Inez. '^ I will 
 hide me behind yonder curtain ; and if it 
 come to the worst, I carry a good Toledo at 
 ray side, and will make my way against more 
 foes than one." 
 
HILDEBRAND. 201 
 
 There was no time to spare ; for the step 
 of Don Gonzalez, rendered more distinct by 
 the clink of his spurs, was now heard at the 
 door. Hardly had Hildebrand slipped behind 
 the curtain, when, pushing" open the door, he 
 entered the chamber. 
 
 He was a man in years ; but time, though 
 it had whitened his hair, had not bent his tall 
 form, or broken the stiffness of his figure 
 Even his grey hair, which would have given 
 a venerable look to others, served to render 
 his appearance more rigid, and the severity 
 of his glance was magnified by his white 
 brows, while his lips, pressed sternly to- 
 gether, looked more repulsive under his griz- 
 zled moustachios. He was dressed in grave 
 habits, with a slouched hat, as though — 
 which probably was the case — he had but just 
 returned from abroad, and had passed straight 
 to his ward's sitting-chamber. 
 
 On his entrance into the apartment, he 
 closed the door behind him, and, turning 
 
 K 3 
 
202 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 round, glanced inquiringly at the two in- 
 mates. His quick eye, surveying them ear- 
 nestly, readily detected the embarrassment of 
 his niece, and discerned that all was not 
 right with her grave duenna. But what 
 probably tended most to excite his suspicions, 
 and led him to surmise that some evil was on 
 foot, was the attire of the two females, which, 
 considering the lateness of the hour, was 
 certainly singular, as it comprehended their 
 veils and mantillas. 
 
 " Ye have been walking late, Senhoras," 
 he said, " yet not, 1 trust, without good 
 escort, or ye may have met some misad- 
 venture." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " And whither hast thou roamed, fair 
 niece?" resumed Don Gonzalez. " What 
 happy gallant, of all the young bachelors of 
 Cadiz, hast thou favoured with an assig- 
 nation ?" 
 
 " What meanest thou, Sir?" said Inez, 
 recovering herself. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 203 
 
 *' Wouldst thou outface me ?" demanded 
 Gonzalez. *' There is that on thy cheek, 
 woman, would avow thy guilt, though thy 
 tongue grew dumb in swearing its tale false." 
 
 But Inez was not to be brow-beaten. 
 Though the unexpected intrusion of her 
 uncle had taken her aback, it could not, by 
 any possible bearing, bend and overcome her 
 indomitable spirit ; and now that the firsi 
 shock of the surprise had worn ofiF, she was 
 prepared to meet him, and could look the 
 danger in the face with perfect firmness. 
 She met his insinuations with indignant re- 
 monstrance ; and answered his taunts, though 
 they were the most bitter he could devise, 
 with taunts more galling. He sought to 
 silence her once or twice ; but the more he 
 stormed, the more did Inez persist, both by 
 her voice and gesture, in braving his fury, 
 and treating him with scorn and defiance. 
 At last, his passion rose, almost to madness. 
 There was one thing that Inez had not ex- 
 
204 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 plained, and that was, how, at so late an hour 
 of the night, she and her duenna were dressed 
 for walking. This was a point, however 
 innocent it might be in itself, that he was not 
 disposed to give up, and it furnished him with 
 an excuse for his last outburst. 
 
 " Thou hast had no assignation," he said, 
 "and yet, by all appearance, hast been 
 abroad at midnight. I prithee what mighty 
 matter took thee forth so late ?" 
 
 " Is it a sin, then, Senhor, to stroll at nights 
 in the garden ? " demanded Inez. 
 
 " 'Tis a fair night, certes, for ladies to go 
 strolling," answered Gonzalez. 
 
 " Thou art too careful for me. Sir,*' re- 
 turned Inez. *' There was no rain." 
 
 "No rain '."exclaimed Gonzalez. '*Wouldst 
 thou make me doubt mine own senses ? But, 
 no ! I will not be braved thus. Thou shalt 
 confess, with thine own lips, and before thy 
 helpmate here, that the rain hath been abun- 
 dant." 
 
HILDEBRAND. 205 
 
 As he thus spoke, he caught a firm hold of 
 her wrist, and drew her towards the chani' 
 ber casement. The detection of her lover, 
 to whom the curtain of the casement had 
 hitherto atforded a secure covert, seemed 
 inevitable ; and her rage sank under her 
 anxiety and terror. 
 
 " Hold, Senhor ! hold ! " she exclaimed, 
 throwing all her weight on her guardian's 
 arm : " I know it hath rained hard." 
 
 But her submission had not the effect she 
 sought. Indeed, it rather increased suspi- 
 cion, than subdued it ; and as it was not till 
 he moved towards the casement that she had 
 tried to conciliate him, Gonzalez fancied that 
 the casement would present something to 
 view, in some way or other, that she desired 
 to conceal. Directly the thought occurred 
 to him, he cast off her hold, and threw her 
 from him. 
 
 Inez beheld him approach the curtain of 
 the casement, behind which her lover had 
 
206 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 takeD refuge, without the power of interpos- 
 ing. The old duenna, in the back-ground, 
 was equally helpless, and could only raise her 
 hands in speechless terror. Inez scarcely 
 dared to breathe, when, twining one hand 
 round the hilt of his rapier, Gonzalez fastened 
 the other on the curtain, and tore it aside. 
 
 The two females started back in astonish- 
 ment : the casement was open, and Hilde- 
 brand had gone. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 It was a fortunate circumstance for Inez, 
 apart from any immediate inconvenience it 
 might have occasioned her, that Gonzalez 
 did not turn round from the casement at the 
 moment he tore back the curtain ; for if he 
 had done so, he could hardly have failed to 
 observe her utter bewilderment and amaze. 
 But as the abortive issue of his proceedings 
 had caused some surprise to himself, he hesi- 
 tated before he turned round ; and Inez had 
 time to subdue, in a great degree, every trace 
 of the emotion which had so deeply stirred 
 her. 
 
208 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 There was a quiet smile on her face when 
 «he again met the gaze of her guardian. This, 
 however, failed to convince Gonzalez that 
 his suspicions of her incontinence had been 
 without ground, though he thought it better, 
 in the absence of any certain evidence, to 
 conceal those suspicions, and defer all mea- 
 sures of severity till he should discover some- 
 thing that would excuse them. Nevertheless, 
 his fury was not calmed. He hesitated to 
 resume his attack on Inez, but it was because, 
 during the many years she had been under 
 his guardianship, he had become too sensible 
 of her unbending spirit, and haughty and re- 
 solute temper, under provocations less serious 
 than that which he had furnished on this oc- 
 casion, to suppose that he would come off 
 the victor ; and not from any feelings of 
 delicacy or forbearance. But the old gover- 
 nante, whom he could discharge from his 
 service at his pleasure, did not come under 
 these protective relations, and, therefore, he 
 
HILDEBRAND. 209 
 
 felt no hesitation in discharging his fury at 
 her, 
 
 " So, thou old beldame ! " he exclaimed, 
 ** wouldst thou bring thy pestilent gallants 
 into our very chambers? 'Tis well, indeed, 
 thou canst find them no place of resort but 
 my house." 
 
 *' Don Gonzalez, this is past all bearing," 
 cried Inez, stepping in to her confidant's 
 rescue. *' I will put up with thy cruel suspi- 
 cions and arbitrary rule no longer. I will 
 petition the King, Sir, to have thy guardian- 
 ship cancelled ; and have my inheritance, 
 which thou engrossest solely to thyself, turned 
 over to my own hands. Come, good Amina," 
 she added to her governante, *' let us re- 
 tire." 
 
 "Aha! would you go plot again ? " cried 
 Gonzalez. " No, no ! we'll no more on't to- 
 night. Get thee to thy chamber alone for 
 once ; and, harkye, thou old hag ! " he added 
 to the duenna, " get thee to tliine, or I will 
 
210 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 have thee made do penance in the public 
 streets. Petition the King, eh 1 " 
 
 *' Remember, thou hast been warned ! " said 
 Inez. 
 
 Uttering these words, she turned abruptly 
 to the door, and passed to the contiguous 
 gallery. Here she was joined by her gover- 
 nante ; but before they could interchange any 
 communication, Gonzalez followed them, and 
 they were obliged to separate. A female 
 servant, who was in waiting in the hall below, 
 furnished them each with a light, and, with 
 this in their hands, they passed in silence to 
 their respective chambers. 
 
 But though Inez repaired to her chamber, 
 she did not retire to rest. Indeed, to have 
 sought repose in the state of mind she was in, 
 agitated with contending influences, would 
 have been the extreme of folly. Yet it was 
 not any remembrance of the conduct of her 
 guardian that engaged her attention. The 
 anger and indignation arising from that 
 
HILDEBRAND. 211 
 
 source, though deep and bitter, was soon lost 
 in her anxiety concerning the disappearance 
 of her lover. She started a whole host of 
 conjectures, as to the manner in which he 
 had effected his escape, but none of them 
 could reduce, in any material degree, her ex- 
 cruciating doubts of his safety. Whatever 
 had been the mode of his egress from the 
 casement, she fancied that he could not de- 
 scend from so great a height, by his own un- 
 aided efforts, and under the disadvantage 
 arising from the darkness of the night, with- 
 out incurring injury. A thrill of anguish 
 shot through her frame, as, pursuing this train 
 of reflection, she thought that he might now 
 be lying disabled on the damp ground, 
 writhing under the torture of a broken limb. 
 Yet, how could she afford him any succour ? 
 how could she even ascertain, without the 
 cognizance and sufferance of her guardian, 
 that he needed succour ? 
 
 She pondered on the subject till she grew 
 
212 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 distracted. At last, after she had thought of 
 every possible mode of proceeding, she re- 
 solved to wait till the household should have 
 retired, and then search for her lover in the 
 garden. 
 
 She did not determine on this step without 
 some hesitation. In making an assignation 
 with a stranger, without so much as knowing 
 his name, or ever interchanging a word with 
 him, she may seem to have manifested little 
 delicacy, and committed excessive indiscre- 
 tion ; but, before passing judgment on her 
 conduct, it must be borne in mind, in refer- 
 ence to her being the first mover of the as- 
 signation, that this was in accordance with 
 the custom of her country, and was no way 
 singular or unusual. She invited Hildebrand 
 to meet her, if his sentiments were such as, 
 on the two occasions she had seen him, he 
 had endeavoured to reveal to her by his looks; 
 and though this might not be a legitimate 
 favour, it was a gallantry that was every day 
 
HILDEBRAND. 213 
 
 practised, and the bachelors of Cadiz hardly 
 ever ventured to address a young lady, espe- 
 cially when she was remarkable for her 
 beauty, till they received some such licence. 
 
 Though she was precipitate, ardent, and 
 romantic, and placed scarcely any bridle on 
 her headlong passions, Inez had never enter- 
 tained a gallant before. It was the noble 
 form, and fine, manly countenance of Hilde- 
 brand, which the contrast they presented to 
 the persons of her countrymen rendered more 
 than usually prepossessing, that wakened a 
 sense of love in her breast for the first time. 
 Yet it was not love, but rather a feeling of 
 satisfaction, if a term so cold may be used, 
 that her charms could win from such a cava- 
 lier the homage of his looks. She felt grati- 
 fied by his admiration ; his appearance struck 
 her with a responsive impression ; and it was 
 this influence, more than any other, that in- 
 duced her to invite him to an assignation. 
 
 Precipitation in an affair of the heart is 
 
214 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 often attended with peril and mischief. Inez 
 was the creature of impulse, and, in her cor- 
 respondence with Hildebrand, all had been 
 hurry and action. She had not paused once. 
 Moreover, from the moment that she had 
 opened a direct communication with him, 
 the novelty and excitement of every indivi- 
 dual circumstance, by associating him con- 
 jstantly with her thoughts, had combined to 
 invest him with a new interest. The ex- 
 pectations raised by his approach, the feelings 
 awakened by his first address, by their pro- 
 gress to her chamber, by the intrusion of her 
 guardian, and by his mysterious disappear- 
 ance, with the tormenting doubts which she 
 entertained concerning his safety, knit him to 
 her heart, and opened to his hand its most 
 precious sympathies, and all its priceless af- 
 fections. 
 
 The heart may seem too lightly won that 
 surrenders without a struggle. Even the 
 love that has sprung from time, by slow and 
 
HILDEBRAND. 215 
 
 gradual degrees, aud under the propitious 
 iofluence of iotiraate fellowship, often retains 
 some taint of selfishness, and acknowledges a 
 fixed and distinct limit. But it is those warm 
 natures which, once aroused, abandon to 
 their love their every thought, that are soon- 
 est and most easily vanquished. They might 
 endure the vicissitudes of a slow and gradual 
 attachment with perfect equanimity ; but the 
 magic force of love's first touch, taking them 
 off their guard, awakens in their bosoms their 
 deepest springs of feeling, and hurries them 
 over every restraint, and past every opposing 
 scruple, into all the excess of unbridled pas- 
 sion. 
 
 In the impetuosity of her nature, Inez had 
 unlocked to her unknown lover the inmost 
 recesses of her heart. He was the light and 
 key to all her thoughts. What would have 
 been to his disadvantage with some, by en- 
 forcing caution, and keeping before them the 
 necessity of acting with prudence, pleaded to 
 
216 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 her in his favour ; and her very ignorance of 
 his name and station made her look upon him 
 with a more ardent and passionate interest. 
 
 At length, the silence that prevailed, and 
 the lateness of the hour, which was now past 
 midnight, led her to suppose that the house- 
 hold must all have retired, and she proceeded 
 to put in execution her purpose of visiting 
 the garden. Softly opening her chamber- 
 door, she looked out into the gallery, and 
 found that the lights in the hall below had 
 been extinguished. Nevertheless, she was 
 afraid to bring her own light forth, and she 
 set on her way in the dark. 
 
 Wrapping her mantilla tightly round her, 
 she pressed close to the wall, and proceeded, 
 with a light but quick step, to descend to the 
 hall. She soon reached the bottom of the 
 stairs, and, with a beating heart, groped her 
 way to the rearward door. It was very dark, 
 but, from long familiarity with the building, 
 both by night and day, she knew where to 
 
HILDEBRAND. 217 
 
 tread, and she made out the door without dif- 
 ficulty. She raised her hand to draw back the 
 bolts ; but, to her surprise, she found that, 
 either from neglect or accident, these were 
 not secured, and the door had been left un- 
 fastened. 
 
 It was not without some qualms of fear that 
 Inez looked out on the pitchy night. The 
 rain was still falling, though not with any 
 force, and the light showers drew from the 
 foliage of the trees, as they fell upon it, a dis- 
 tinct yibration, that gave to the prevailing 
 darkness an unearthly terror. But her ap- 
 prehensions of peril from fellow-mortals, 
 which her venturing out alone at so late an 
 hour might well inspire, repressed any su- 
 perstitious fears in the bosom of Inez, though 
 they rendered her equally timid and irreso- 
 lute. After a brief pause, however, her de- 
 cision returned, and, drawing the door close 
 after her, she passed out. 
 
 Without the door, there was a stone land- 
 VOL. I. ^ 
 
2IB HILDEBRAND. 
 
 ing", guarded on either side by an iron rail, 
 which led down a flight of steps to the garden. 
 Above the landing, on a level with the top of 
 the door, was a sort of veranda, open at the 
 sides, which ran the whole length of the rails. 
 Inez now perceived, what she had not thought 
 of before, that this veranda was immediately 
 beneath the casement from which her lover 
 had made his egress, and she doubted not 
 that he had easily lit upon it from the case- 
 ment-sill, and thence leaped to the ground. 
 A thrill of joy shot through her frame, as, 
 measuring the height of the veranda with her 
 eye, she perceived that he could do this with- 
 out incurring any hurt ; and the prompt 
 manner in which he had seized such a means 
 of escape, when the danger must have been 
 yet remote, and the expediency of retreat 
 could hardly have occurred to him, led her 
 to look upon his image with more confirmed 
 admiration. 
 
 Nevertheless, he could not have got out 
 
HILDEBRAND. 219 
 
 of the garden ; for, on his entry with her 
 duenna, the latter had locked the gate which, 
 as was shown heretofore, opened into the 
 street, and there was no other outlet but 
 through the house. She determined, there- 
 fore, pursuant to her original intention, to 
 seek him in the garden, and lend him her aid 
 to get clear off. 
 
 She passed on for some little time, without 
 observing anything to cause her the least 
 alarm. At length, turning a sweep in the 
 walk, where the area was less confined, her 
 eye took in a more extended range, and she 
 was able to distinguish objects more clearly. 
 Here, as she gazed earnestly round, her eye 
 fell on a large orange-tree, a few paces in 
 her front; and she distinctly discerned two 
 men, muffled in long cloaks, standing against 
 its trunk. She turned to flee directly, but, in 
 the hurry of her retreat, she forgot how neces- 
 sary it was to proceed with caution, and the 
 tread of her feet, reverberated by the wet 
 
 h2 
 
220 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 ground, made the two men sensible of her 
 vicinity. One of them called to her, in a 
 v^oice which she recognised as her guardian's, 
 to come to a halt, and, at the same time, 
 prepared to give her chase. But Inez fled 
 at her last speed. Turning the sweep already 
 noticed, she came abreast of a walk which, 
 breaking through a small shrubbery, led to 
 the further end of the garden; and this sug- 
 gested itself to her as a safe route for retreat. 
 But the steps of her pursuers were close in 
 her wake, and the difficulty of escape, if it 
 depended solely on her speed, became every 
 moment more and more apparent. More- 
 over, her breath was failing her, and her 
 energies were, what with fear, and what with 
 her exertions, nearly exhausted. In this 
 dilemma, she came to a stand, intending to 
 deliver herself up. As the steps of her pur- 
 suers drew nearer, however, her desire to 
 escape revived, and, with something like 
 renewed hope, she stepped out of the walk, 
 
HILDEBRAND, 221 
 
 Und hid herself among the contiguous 
 shrubs. 
 
 Her pursuers soon came abreast of her 
 hiding-place. To her great terror, however, 
 they did not pass on, but halted right before 
 her. She kept her eyes continually upon 
 them, every minute expecting to see them 
 move away ; but minute after minute ex- 
 pired, in slow and melancholy succession, 
 and they were still stationary. Her stooping 
 position, though relieved of some of its weari- 
 ness by the support of her hands, was grow- 
 ing painful ; but she was afraid to move — 
 she hardly ventured to breathe. The excite- 
 ment was becoming intolerable, when, after 
 an interval of about half an hour, one of the 
 cavaliers spoke. 
 
 " Dost think it was he ?" he asked of his 
 companion. 
 
 ** No," answered the other. " 1 fear me 
 he hath got oflF." 
 
 *' Art thou sure he was ever here ?'' asked 
 the first speaker. 
 
222 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 '* Did I not tell thee I dogged him, and the 
 old duenna, Amina, almost to the very gate ? 
 replied the other. 
 
 '« Thou canst hardly be mistaken, then," 
 said the first speaker. If he have escaped, 
 'tis through thy pestilent knave of a groom, 
 whom we sent, with a charge to use his ut- 
 most despatch, for the guard of alguazils/' 
 
 The other cavalier made some reply, but 
 it was in so low a tone, and the rain at the 
 moment made so much noise, that his words 
 reached the ear of his comrade only, and 
 afforded no trace of their purport to the 
 anxious Inez. Whatever their purport might 
 be, however, they evidently directed them to 
 some other quarter ; for they moved away 
 without more ado. 
 
 Inez now breathed more freely. It was a 
 great relief to her to stand upright ; but her 
 tender limbs, unused to any hardship, and 
 cramped by her recent stooping, suffered 
 severely from the wet and cold. She was 
 still afraid to move out of the shrubbery ; for 
 
HILDEBHAND. 223 
 
 she doubted not, from what she had over- 
 heard, that the two cavaliers continued on 
 the watch, though they had removed from her 
 immediate vicinity. Their brief dialogue also 
 apprised her, in terms too broad and dis- 
 tinct to be misunderstood, tliat they were 
 aware of her having received a visit from a 
 gallant ; and this circumstance tended to in- 
 crease her uneasiness, and make her more 
 and more melancholy. But she was some- 
 what assured by the reflection, arising out of 
 this train of thought, after she had started all 
 manner of conjectures, that Hildebrand had 
 got clear away ; for if he had effected his 
 descent from the casement without incurring 
 any hurt, she thought it highly improbable 
 that he would pause or linger in his retreat 
 and suffer the low wall of the garden, the 
 only remaining obstacle, to prevent his mak- 
 ing off. The matter, however, was involved 
 in uncertainty ; and her conjectures, and 
 hopes, and apprehensions, rising one upon 
 
224 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 another, in quick and unbroken succession, 
 harassed her excessively, and subjected her 
 mind to the most exquisite pangs of suspense. 
 
 She remained standing in the shrubbery for 
 nearly half an hour. Then, finding all quiet, 
 she stepped over the parterre, and ventured 
 out on the walk. No one was in sight, and 
 she resolved, though not without hesitation, 
 and many lingering fears respecting the safety 
 of Hildebrand, to endeavour to return un- 
 perceived to the house. 
 
 She set forward with a trembling heart, but 
 she grew more confident as she progressed, 
 and discovered nothing around, so far as she 
 could distinguish, to indicate the presence of 
 a single living creature. Her heart quite 
 bounded as she arrived in front of the house, 
 and she mounted the flight of steps at the 
 door, under the shelter of the veranda, with 
 a sense of recovered buoyancy. Passing over 
 the landing, she paused in front of the door, 
 and clutched eagerly at the latch : — the door 
 was fastened within. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 225 
 
 Her head reeled again as she made this dis- 
 covery ; and yet, on a moment's reflection, 
 she could hardly bring herself to believe that 
 the door was really fastened, and she fixed 
 her hand on the latch once more. But the 
 door resisted her efforts, and she tried it over 
 and over again, sometimes with all her force, 
 and at others gently, but still with the ut- 
 most earnestness, with the like disheart- 
 ening result. 
 
 She was very cold, and wet withal, and her 
 tender and delicate frame, from the severe 
 manner in which it had been tried, was already 
 fast sinking from exhaustion. How could she 
 bear up till the morrow ? What resource was 
 left her, in her utter helplessness and misery, 
 against the terrors and hardship of a night in 
 the open air ? 
 
 In vain she pondered on her situation. The 
 more she thought of it, in a fruitless pursuit 
 of some one hopeful reflection, the greater 
 became her misery, and the more confirmed 
 
 l3 
 
226 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 her despair. Nor were the great personal 
 apprehensions that she entertained, and which 
 every moment augmented, the most afflictive 
 element of her distress ; for the solitude 
 around now raised within her a host of ideal 
 and superstitious terrors, far more grievous 
 and depressing. For some minutes she 
 hardly ventured to raise her eyes from the 
 ground. The sputtering of the rain on the 
 veranda, a few feet above her head, made her 
 thrill with fear; if she sought to relieve her 
 wearied limbs by changing her position, either 
 by supporting her arm on the hand-rail, or 
 by leaning against the door, the rustling of 
 her drapery, whenever she moved, turned 
 her heart cold, and conjured up before her 
 the most morbid and distracting fancies. 
 
 She might have remained in this position 
 till the morning, but, happening to glance on 
 one side, her eye fell on the dim outlines of 
 an outhouse, stretching away from the main 
 building, only a few yards from where she 
 
HILDEBRAND. 227 
 
 stood. This she knew to be the kitchen, and, 
 though she had no doubt of the kitchen being 
 duly secured, she recollected that there was 
 a wood-house adjoining, in a line with the 
 kitchen, the door of which was fastened only 
 with a staple, and would, therefore, afford her 
 ready access. Poor as such a refuge would 
 be, it would, in her present destitution, still 
 be a refuge; and it no sooner presented itself 
 to view than she hastened to embrace it. 
 
 Quickly descending the flight of steps, she 
 kept close against the side of the house, in 
 order to screen herself in its shadow, and 
 pushed forward to the kitchen. On arriving 
 before this building, she paused a moment, 
 and looked anxiously round. But she could 
 discern no trace of any overlooker, and, 
 drawing a deep breath, she again pressed 
 against the wall, and resumed her progress 
 to the wood-house. As she passed along, 
 however, keeping close to the wall, she came 
 against the kitchen-door; and, yielding to 
 
228 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 her involuntary pressure, which its situation 
 in an indenture rendered more forcible, the 
 door flew open. 
 
 A sensation of pleasure rose in her bosom 
 at this unexpected prospect of a comfortable 
 retreat. Before the feeling had well sprung 
 up, however, it was overtaken by an opposite 
 one ; for as she was about to avail herself of 
 the passage aflPorded by the open door, some- 
 thing like the rustling of drapery saluted her 
 ear, and she shrank back in dismay. Look- 
 ing quickly round, she fancied that she saw a 
 shadow, which had protruded from the deeper 
 gloom, hastily flit back, a few yards further 
 up the walk ; but if this had really happened, 
 it retreated so fleetly, and the variety of sha- 
 dows thrown out by the trees and shrubs 
 were so perplexing, that she could not but 
 regard it with uncertainty and doubt. Never- 
 theless, she kept her eye on the spot for 
 several minutes, intently surveying its every 
 outline* without discerning anything con- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 229 
 
 firmatory of her fears ; and, somewhat re- 
 assured, she turned to the door again. 
 
 Passing in, she softly closed the door, and 
 glanced around. Some embers of a fire were 
 gleaming in the andirons, on the side of the 
 room opposite to the door, and the light they 
 afforded, though no more than rendered the 
 darkness visible, served as a mark for her 
 steps, and enabled her to grope her way for- 
 ward. As she came up to the andirons, her 
 dress caught in something at her feet, and, 
 stooping to see what it was, she found that 
 there was a heap of furze, or dried heather, 
 on one side of the andirons, ready for use in 
 the morning. She threw a handful of this 
 into the fireplace ; and the dim embers, re- 
 vived by her breath, which she blew upon 
 them with all her force, mounted into a 
 flame. A log of wood which she found at 
 hand, and which she laid on the top of the 
 furze, soon provided her with a good and 
 cheerful fire. 
 
230 HILDEERAND. 
 
 The light thus furnished enabled Inez to 
 look round the kitchen more narrowly. It 
 inspired her, too, with more courage— -if that 
 which was derived from an extraneous influ- 
 ence, not from any source within, might be 
 called courage. Still her glance was timid 
 and hasty, and the cheering effect of the 
 fire, though it rendered her situation more 
 tolerable, had evidently not relieved her of 
 her many depressing apprehensions. Indeed, 
 this very light itself, by revealing to her the 
 outlines of every part of the room, soon pre- 
 sented her with some ground, beyond that 
 which sprang from her natural timidity, for 
 her very worst fears. As her survey pro- 
 gressed, she observed the door of a neigh- 
 bouring closet, on which the fire shed its full 
 light, slightly pulled back, as though it had 
 been a little open, and was drawn close by 
 some person within. Her terror was exces- 
 sive, but it was of that kind which, by repre- 
 senting escape to be impracticable, impelled 
 
HILDEBRAND. 231 
 
 her forward, and she made one desperate 
 spring to the closet-door. 
 
 She drew the door open, and the light, 
 pouring full into the closet, revealed to her 
 the person of a cavalier. But though she 
 started^ it was not with fear, but surprise ; for 
 the cavalier, in whom she had expected to 
 find a ruthless enemy, was no other than her 
 lover. 
 
 *' Is't thou ? " she exclaimed. ** Come forth 
 to the fire." 
 
 Hildebrand, thus invited, stepped out of the 
 closet, and advanced with her to the fire. 
 
 " How camest thou hither, dear lady .? " he 
 inquired. 
 
 " I came to seek thee, Senhor," answered 
 Inez, blushing. *' I was afeard, from the 
 manner of thy retreat, that thou mightst have 
 met some mishap, and be lying disabled in 
 the garden. How didst thou come hither?" 
 
 " It may be briefly told, dear lady," said 
 Hildebrand. "When 1 had got me behind 
 
232 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 the curtain, in thy chamber, I found the case- 
 ment was open ; and, looking out, 1 observed 
 the veranda over the rearward door, by 
 which we had g-ained ingress to the house, 
 only a few feet beneath. Meantime, thy 
 churlish g^uardian, as 1 suppose him, did in- 
 trude on thy presence, and I heard him and 
 thee bandying" high words. It struck me, on 
 this hint, that, if he should hap to fall on my 
 covert, 't would bring on thee more particu- 
 lar injury; and, so thinking-, 1 sought to get 
 me beyond his reach. The casement being 
 already open, I turned myself over the sill 
 with ease ; and the noise made by your voices, 
 which anger and jealousy had raised to the 
 very highest parlance, prevented my pro- 
 ceedings from being heard." 
 
 '' *T was well we talked so loud," smiled 
 Inez. '* But how then ?" 
 
 " Clinging round the lower frame of the 
 casement," resumed Hildebrand, '* I dropped 
 my feet to the veranda, and there, standing 
 
HILDEBRAND. 233 
 
 upright, surveyed its height from the ground. 
 It looked a marvellous great distance, but I 
 knew, from my experience of such matters, 
 that it got this look of magnitude from the 
 prevailing darkness ; and, supposing it to 
 involve but little peril, I made a bold spring 
 for 't. My conjecture proved correct, and 
 I lit safely on the ground." 
 
 '' 'Twas bravely done," said Inez, unwit- 
 tingly clinging more fondly to his arm. " But 
 having reached the garden, how was it thou 
 didst not pursue thy retreat?'' 
 
 '' By this hand," answered Hildebrand, 
 raising her trembling hand to his lips, *' 1 
 could not have won the street, an* I had been 
 minded. 1 had scarce touched the ground, 
 when a man started out on the path before 
 me, with something in his hand, which I took 
 to be a rapier. Though I was not afeard 
 to encounter him, I had no desire to spill 
 blood, and, therefore, I resolved to keep 
 perdu a while. But he was on the watch. 
 
234 HILDEERAND. 
 
 and, whether he suspected my vicinity, or 
 simply sought to overlook the house, he held 
 his ground, and so kept me close. This 
 wearied me, and I determined, whatever 
 should ensue, to set forward again. The 
 darkness favoured me, and, keeping close ta 
 the house, 1 crept stealthily onward, and 
 paused not till I came here. After staying 
 here a space, I had concluded to sally out, 
 and, if no one should be about, try to gain the 
 street ; but at this juncture, I heard thy step 
 approach, and that, of course, brought me to 
 a stand. Not doubting that thou wast some 
 enemy, I looked round for a hiding-place; 
 and, by good fortune, espied yonder closet, 
 where thou didst happily discover me." 
 
 '' 'Tis a downright tale of adventure,*' 
 observed Inez, with a smile. 
 
 " And I will be surety," remarked Hilde- 
 brand, in reply, "thy progress hither hath 
 also been venturesome. How didst thou fare, 
 lady .?" 
 
HILDEBRAND. 235 
 
 Inez, quite reassured by their seeming se- 
 curity, did not hesitate to meet his inquiry 
 with a full account of her excursion, and the 
 thoughts and apprehensions that, according 
 as its incidents were favourable or adverse, 
 or her anxiety for Hildebrand more or less 
 pressing, had marked its progress. Her nar- 
 rative had a deeper effect on Hildebrand, 
 whom his recent moments of reflection had 
 rendered more collected, and less subservient 
 to the wild impulses of passion, than she sup- 
 posed ; and inspired him with a more appa- 
 rent interest than she had looked for. Indeed, 
 in its detail of risks and terrors, it exhibited 
 such a devoted affection for him, above what 
 he had sought to excite, that he could no 
 longer regard her as a mere light-of-lov^e, or 
 safely venture to trifle with her heart. The 
 artless narration awakened his better nature, 
 and, by the very coiifidence that it placed in 
 him, called up in his bosom a sense of re- 
 morse, that was far from lending a stimulant 
 
236 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 to the dictates of passion. In the revelation 
 of her fears and anxieties, he saw the tender- 
 ness and deep sensibility of her amiable heart, 
 and became aware, by this discovery, that her 
 character was not composed of the light ele- 
 ments he had imagined, but of all the choice 
 and sterling- qualities of her sex. 
 
 It would have been well for Hildebrand if 
 he had paused on this interposition of his 
 better judgment. It would have been a 
 happy reflection for him, at a more advanced 
 period of his life, that the first compunctious 
 qualms of his warm and generous nature had 
 not been unheeded, and that he had made a 
 timely retreat from the temptation which he 
 had so diligently sought. But his remorse 
 and hesitation lasted only while he remained 
 silent. Directly he replied to Inez, they be- 
 gan to subside, and, with the renewal of the 
 conversation, his passion revived. 
 
 If Hildebrand betrayed such indecision 
 under this first trial, it may reasonably be ex- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 237 
 
 pected, from her youth and inexperience, not 
 to mention the greater weakness of her sex, 
 that Inez should be off her guard in an equal 
 degree. Her passion, indeed, was true and 
 genuine^ and was becoming deeper and more 
 deep every moment. It was attachment — 
 not only to his person, but to his thoughts, 
 wishes, and character ; an interest in every- 
 thing that, now or hereafter, in any measure 
 concerned him, and which was gradually and 
 imperceptibly absorbing all thought and care 
 of herself, and making him the leading influ- 
 ence of her most precious affections. 
 
 Her attachment had just attained that crisis, 
 if we may use such a term, at which it would 
 be difficult, but might not be impossible, to 
 uproot or restrain it. Here she might pause, 
 but a single step more, with whatever caution 
 it were taken, must be decisive and final, and 
 could never be retraced. Whether she knew 
 this, or not, or ever gave it a thought, she did 
 not pause once, but left her affections with- 
 
238 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 out the least guard, and exposed to all the 
 impressions which a fervid and sanguine tem- 
 perament, free from the least taint of selfish- 
 ness, could derive from the dangerous 
 and very striking peculiarity of her po- 
 sition. 
 
 The timidity she had manifested on dis- 
 covering Hildebrand in the closet gradually 
 wore away, and, whether from the excite- 
 ment of conversation, or the fellowship that 
 sprang from a sense of surrounding peril, 
 by which they were both alike affected, she 
 shortly became more confident. She had 
 dropped her hold of Hildebrand's arm, but 
 had suffered him, by way of requital, to re- 
 tain possession of her small hand, which he 
 probably considered a greater favour. What- 
 ever light he viewed it in, however, it did 
 not lead him to forget, in the pleasure of the 
 passing moment, that his situation was one of 
 some danger, and that it was expedient to 
 make an early effort to gain the street. After 
 
HILDEB«AND. 239 
 
 conversing with Inez for a while, he reminded 
 her of this, and proposed that he should now 
 set out. 
 
 " Ah, art thou so hasty ?" said Inez, plain- 
 tively. " Even thus restless, I fear me, will 
 be thy professed love, which will soon wander 
 from me, to light on some other." 
 
 " I' faith, fair Inez, 'tis thy reproach that 
 is hasty," answered Hildebrand. '* But'' — 
 
 " Hush !" whispered Inez, shrinking back 
 on his arm. 
 
 Hildebrand, following her eye, glanced 
 anxiously at the door. Listening a moment, 
 he distinctly heard the tread of footsteps, and 
 some voices, as it seemed to him, conversing 
 in whispers. He had hardly time to seize the 
 hilt of his rapier, when the door was thrown 
 open, and two cavaliers, with their rapiers 
 already drawn, sprang into the room. The 
 light of the fire, which the draught through 
 the open door had somewhat brightened, 
 
240 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 enabled Hildebrand to distinguish their 
 faces; and, to his surprise, he recognised in 
 the foremost cavalier an old and unexpected 
 enemy : — it was Don Felix di Corva. 
 
CHAPTER VTII. 
 
 Although Dame Shedlock had fully ex- 
 plained to Zedekiah and Abigail the mystery 
 of Sir Walter Raleigh's pipe, it must not be 
 supposed that those two individuals were 
 satisfied, by this unsupported testimony of 
 their mistress, that the said pipe was merely 
 a harmless source of recreation, and no way 
 allied to the powers and elements of the in- 
 fernal regions. They forbore to alarm the 
 neighbourhood, and, to the eye of their mis- 
 tress, appeared to award her explanation im- 
 plicit credence ; but their belief that the 
 pipe was Sir Walter's familiar demon, by 
 
 VOL. 1. M 
 
242 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 means of which he corresponded with Luci- 
 fer, was unshaken, and too firmly rooted in 
 their minds to be easily removed. 
 
 Zedekiah, indeed, did not care much, after 
 his first fright had subsided, whether it were 
 true or not, so long as he was beyond Sir 
 Walter's reach; but Abigail's horror of the 
 Evil One was more inveterate. No sooner 
 had Dame Shedlock retired, than she made 
 Zedekiah sensible, by a few hurried words, 
 how^ deeply this horror was now moving 
 her, and implored him to lend his aid towards 
 blocking the Enemy out. There was but one 
 way, in her opinion, in which the blocking 
 out could be effected ; and this was by pro- 
 curing a horseshoe, and nailing it, with the 
 fore-part upwards, on the outside of the 
 kitchen-door. Without ever having been 
 suspected of sorcery, she had the reputation 
 of being deeply versed in the science of 
 charms, as her whole life, in private, was one 
 uninterrupted precaution against bad luck and 
 
HILDEBRAND. 243 
 
 witches ; and, therefore, Zedekiah readily 
 believed that this contrivance would be fully 
 adequate to the purpose in view, and consti- 
 tute a barrier that the devil could not pass. 
 There was one bar to its success, however, 
 that he thought calculated to cause them 
 some inconvenience ; and this was, that they 
 had no horseshoe. 
 
 " Be that all thou canst say ?" asked Abi- 
 gail, in answer to this objection of the man- 
 of-all-work. " Doth thy horse run barefoot, 
 then ?" 
 
 '*ScoflP not, woman!'* replied Zedekiah; 
 ** for the beast hath in nothing offended thee. 
 Verily, he is shod complete." 
 
 ''Then, we will straight unshoe him," re- 
 turned Abigail. *' Better a lazy beast should 
 go barefoot, than harm should come to any 
 Christian folk." 
 
 This, however, was a proposition that Ze- 
 dekiah would not concur in ; and it required 
 all the arguments that Abigail could muster, 
 
 m2 
 
244 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 independent of a forcible and highly-coloured 
 representation of the danger that threatened 
 them, and which might be so easily averted, 
 before he would engage to carry it into effect. 
 Even when he did give a reluctant consent, 
 he had nearly marred all, in Abigail's estima- 
 tion, by setting forward for the stable with 
 his right foot, instead of taking the first step 
 with his left. This mistake brought them to 
 a stand, and, in order to render it of no effect, 
 it became necessary, according to the rules 
 which Abigail followed, that they should 
 turn round three times, and then set forward 
 anew. Having made these gyrations, they 
 prepared to proceed, Zedekiah going first, 
 and Abigail following with the poker. 
 
 Moving along in this order, they had just 
 gained the kitchen-door, when a loud crack, 
 like the report of a pistol, which came on 
 them from their rear, brought them both to a 
 halt. The report emanated from the fire, and 
 was caused by a large log of wood, which 
 
HILDEBRAND. 245 
 
 bad been for some time consuming, splitting 
 in twain, and discharging a small fragment 
 into the middle of the room. Some people 
 would have considered this a natural conse- 
 queace of the wood splitting, and would have 
 had no notion, in their views of cause and 
 effect, that it could refer to, or foretoken, a 
 coming event ; but, fortunately for her de- 
 sign, Abigail was not so simple. She knew 
 well, from a long experience of such matters, 
 that it portended something of moment, and, 
 therefore, directly she became aware that the 
 noise emanated from the fire, and that it had 
 been caused in the manner described, she 
 hastened to gain possession of the small frag- 
 ment of wood which had bean shot forth. 
 
 It was lying in the middle of the room, 
 and seemed, on a cursory view, to be of a 
 shape perfectly unmeaning, and to have no 
 resemblance to any one thing in the whole 
 world. Abigail, however, did not view it 
 with ordinary eyes, and she quickly discerned 
 
246 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 that its shape was but too indicant of its 
 melancholy import. 
 
 '' Woe's me !" she exclaimed : " 'tis a 
 coffin r 
 
 '* A coffin !" cried Zedekiah, in ecstasy. 
 "Is't for me?'' 
 
 " By cock and pie, I think it be.'" an- 
 swered Abigail, very willing to take the im- 
 pending calamity off herself. 
 
 Zedekiah, far from being dejected, was quite 
 elated by the prospect thus opened, and re- 
 ceived the reputed coffin from Abigail with 
 the greatest eagerness. 
 
 " I am to be at Cummer Griffin's burying 
 to-day," he said. *- What a goodly corpse the 
 cummer makes!" 
 
 And here, to explain this morbid disposi- 
 tion of Zedekiah, it may be observed, that 
 that worthy considered everything that re- 
 lated to coffins and funerals, in what shape 
 soever it might present itself, as one of the 
 most fruitful sources of human enjoyment. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 247 
 
 Some people might think a bridal, or a chris- 
 tening, in which all is life and festivity, 
 worthy of attention ; but Zedekiah's object 
 of desire was a burial. Many would have 
 preferred to pass the summer evenings in the 
 green fields, where, if the weather served, 
 every object looked fresh and cheerful, and 
 the air was laden with fragrance ; but Zede- 
 kiah, with a singular constancy, took his 
 walks in the churchyard, and recreated him- 
 self among the tombs. He could tell the date 
 of every death in the neighbourhood for a 
 whole age ; and could repeat literally, at a 
 moment's warning, the epitaph and inscription 
 on any given tomb. He attended every fune- 
 ral for miles round ; and though, by his own 
 account, he had never yet had the happiness 
 to officiate as chief mourner, he always held 
 a conspicuous and prominent place in the 
 procession, and was considered as indispen- 
 sable at a decent interment as the undertaker 
 himself 
 
248 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 These circumstances being borne in mind, 
 it will be readily iiiiagined, on a closer glance 
 at his character, that Zedekiah looked for- 
 ward to the funeral of Cummer Griffin with 
 no small degree of pleasure. Abigail, how- 
 ever, having a mortal horror of death, did not 
 participate in this feeling, and she replied to 
 Zedekiah's remarks in a tone of some as- 
 perity. 
 
 *' What a pestilent din dost thou make o* 
 this burying ! " she said. " Thou 'dst like all 
 the world to die, so thou mightst but see them 
 buried. But let us to our work, or the Evil 
 One, mayhap, will be upon us anon, and lead 
 us some other dance." 
 
 '* Art advised that the horseshoe will keep 
 him out?" inquired Zedekiah. 
 
 '' Ay, and conjure him into the Red Sea, 
 too," answered Abigail. But, go to! Let 
 us about it!" 
 
 Zedekiah acquiesced, and, without more 
 ado, they set forward, taking care to put out 
 
HILDEBRAND. 249 
 
 the left foot first. They passed along un- 
 molested, and, in due time, reached the stable, 
 where Dobbin — by which humble name the 
 Rosinante-looking steed described in a for- 
 mer chapter was known — was lodf^ed. 
 
 Abigail, pursuant to a concerted under- 
 standing, stood on sentry without, with the 
 poker clutched tightly in her hand, while 
 Zedekiah proceeded to bring Dobbin forth. 
 That patient beast passively submitted to his 
 hand, and he was brought out, unconscious 
 of his doom, to undergo the operation that 
 Abigail had suggested. 
 
 " Be wary now, Zedekiah," remarked 
 Abigail, at this juncture; *' for the demon, 
 thou maystbe sure, will be well on his ffuard. 
 Do thou look to Dobbin, and I will keep 
 watch against harm." 
 
 '* 1 begin to be marvellously afeard," re- 
 plied Zedekiah, in a tremulous voice. " I 
 would the dem )n were well in the Red 
 Sea." 
 
 M 3 
 
250' HILDEBRAND. 
 
 But there was, he knew, no hope of the 
 demon absconding-, or being transported to 
 the remote locality alluded to, until the 
 horseshoe should be fixed on the kitchen- 
 door ; and therefore, trusting that Abigail 
 would not fail to keep a good watch, he pro- 
 ceeded to take the preliminary and foremost 
 step in this great undertaking. 
 
 Turning his face towards the back of Abi- 
 gail, a pace or two in her rear, he lowered 
 his head to a level with her waist; and, 
 drawing one of the hind legs of Dobbin be- 
 tween his own legs, raised it up, with the foot 
 uppermost, so as to view the shoe. Mean- 
 time, Abigail, with commendable caution, 
 swung her poker round, on either side, as 
 far as her arm would reach, and this ren- 
 dered any intrusion of the demon almost an 
 impossibility. But how can mortals, how- 
 ever skilled in charms, expect to be able to 
 cope with demons? The very precaution 
 which, in the simplicity of her nature, Abi- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 251 
 
 gail considered inductive to succes^s, and a 
 bar to every demoniacal approach, was des- 
 tined to be tlie engine of their overthrow. 
 While the trembling Zedekiah was yet sur- 
 veying Dobbin's shoe, preparatory to com- 
 mencing operations, Abigail, in swinging 
 round the poker, dealt the poor horse a tre- 
 mendous blow in the ribs, and let the poker 
 rebound from her hand. Dobbin struck out 
 instantly, and, with a spirit which seemed 
 scarcely his own, kicked Zedekiah bodily 
 forward, knocking down both him and Abi- 
 gail at one and the same time. This done, 
 he gave utterance to a neigh of tfiumph, and 
 cantered gaily into his stable. 
 
 Zedekiah was on his feet in a moment. 
 He had no doubt, from what had passed, that 
 the demon had baffled the precaution of Abi- 
 gail, and was about to visit them with sum- 
 mary vengeance. His terror was excessive ; 
 but it did not blind him to the fact, as he 
 thought it, that his safety lay in flight; and, 
 
252 HILDEBRAND* 
 
 therefore, on gaining his feet, he made oflf at 
 his last speed . 
 
 He kept on his course till he came to the 
 outer boundary of the front garden, where a 
 gate, which had formerly been protected by 
 a porter's lodge, but at this time was wholly 
 unguarded, opened into the high-road. 
 Here, as it was some distance from the stable, 
 he ventured to halt, and sought to recover 
 his interrupted breath. 
 
 Zedekiah's mind was not very retentive, 
 and though, on the present occasion, his 
 memory of the demon was kept alive for a 
 time by his terror, he gradually began to re- 
 cede from this fixed idea, and to fall back on 
 such fancies as, from their giddy and fleeting 
 character, were more natural to his mind, 
 and more consonant with his temper. A few 
 minutes after he had come to a halt, the first 
 cause of his flight, having made no settled 
 impression upon him, had passed from his 
 recollection, and left him to wander at will 
 
HILDEBRAND. 253 
 
 over the various and disordered images of an 
 unbridled mind. While he was thus engaged, 
 a sprinkle of rain fell around, and this — so 
 easy is it always to call the imagination to its 
 leading theme — reminded him that he had an 
 interest in the weather for the passing day, 
 as it was to witness the celebration of Cum- 
 mer Griffin's funeral. His countenance, which 
 hitherto had been sad and gloomy, brightened 
 as the rain increased, and, after a while, he 
 gave utterance to his feelings in an old dis^ 
 tich :— 
 
 " Happy is the bridal that glistens in the sun, 
 And blessed is the corpse that the rain rains on." 
 
 " Whose burying comes off to-day ?" 
 asked a voice behind hira, apparently speak- 
 ing through the gate. 
 
 Zedekiah, with the view of facing the quar- 
 ter from which he might expect any danger, 
 had his back to the gate, and his face turned 
 in the direction of the stable ; but on being 
 thus accosted, he altered his position, and, 
 
254 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 with fear and trembling:, turned liis face 
 round to the gate. His fear, however, was 
 not of long continuance; for, on effecting this 
 evolution, he perceived that the individual 
 who had accosted him was no more than a 
 mortal man, and one, moreover, whom he 
 well knew. 
 
 " Old Cummer Griffin's, Master Gray," he 
 answered. 
 
 Bernard Gray — for the person addressed 
 was no other — appeared to be somewhat 
 downcast by his intelligence. 
 
 '' So, the old cummer is dead," he said. 
 *' Well, she w^as a round age, I ween; and 
 led an indifferent good life." 
 
 " She was fifty odd when Gaffer Wiggins 
 was buried," remarked Zedekiah, '' and that 
 is twenty years agone, come Martinmas." 
 
 *' So long?" said Bernard. "Ah! life 
 fleets fast. But how comes it, Zedekiah, 
 thou art not at the cummer's now V Thou art 
 not wont to be thus tardy." 
 
HILDEBRAND. 255 
 
 " The Lord required me elsewhere," an- 
 swered Zedekiah. *' We have been at the 
 Grange all the morning." 
 
 ** How ?" inquired Bernard. " Had ye 
 aught to do at Sir Edgar de Neville's?" 
 
 " Ay, ay, we have chained down the arch- 
 malignant," replied Zedekiah. " The Pope 
 may deliver him now, an' he can." 
 
 His information, though full of weight 
 and meaning, was not very explicit, or cal- 
 culated to give Bernard a correct idea of the 
 momentous event it referred to. Still it let 
 him know that something strange had hap- 
 pened, in which, if it should any way have 
 affected Hildebrand Clifford, he might him- 
 self be interested ; and he applied himself 
 diligently to learn from Zedekiah the full 
 particulars. Some time elapsed before he 
 could bring matters to such a satisfactory 
 issue; but, in the end, he accomplished his 
 purpose, and thus became acquainted, among 
 other things, with the exact position of 
 
256 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 affairs at the Grange, excepting only the 
 solitary circumstance of the disappearance 
 of Hildebrand. 
 
 Satisfied that he had learned from Zede- 
 kiah all he knew, he bade that worthy a hasty 
 adieu, and took his departure. It was now 
 approaching the hour at which, according to 
 their appointment of the previous day, he was 
 to have an interview with Hildebrand, and, 
 with an anxious and troubled spirit, he hast- 
 ened towards the spot where tliey had agreed 
 to meet. 
 
 He did not expect that Hildebrand would 
 keep his appointment. He felt that, in the 
 existing state of things, it would be difficult 
 for him to absent himself from the Grange, 
 though it were only for a few moments, with- 
 out showing disrespect to his host ; and fronn 
 what he had seen of Hildebrand, and the 
 views he entertained of his character, be 
 thought it unlikely that he would incur an 
 imputation of that sort. Indeed, he was not 
 
HILDEBRAND. 257 
 
 without some apprehension, from all that he 
 had heard, that Hiidebrand might be threat- 
 ened with danger himself, and, perhaps, be 
 involved in the charge which had been brought 
 against Sir Edgar. It was true, he argued, 
 when this apprehension first occurred to him, 
 that Hiidebrand had not been mentioned by 
 Zedekiah, but tiiat migiit arise from his sup- 
 posing that he did not know Hiidebrand, and 
 therefore, in the ordinary course of things, 
 could feel no curiosity about what should 
 happen to him. He knew that Shedlock, if 
 he found any opportunity, would strive his 
 utmost to make away with Hiidebrand, and 
 his proceedings against Sir Edgar might be a 
 mere feint> designed, with a Satanic cunning, 
 to cover an attack on Hiidebrand. As he 
 mused on these possibilities, he was almost 
 inclined, at one time, to turn back to Zede- 
 kiah, and see if he could glean anything more 
 from him; but ultimately, thinking this would 
 be a fruitless mission, he changed his mind* 
 
258 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 and pursued his original intention of pro- 
 ceeding straight to his appointment with Hil- 
 debrand. 
 
 It may speak little in Bernard's favour, on 
 a first view, that the unhappy consequences 
 of the attack on Sir Edgar's carriage, though 
 they now caused him some anxiety of them- 
 selves, awakened in him no remorse or com- 
 punction for his share in the attack. The 
 outrage had been attended with the loss of 
 two lives, and had since, through the inter- 
 ference of Shedlock, involved the innocent 
 family against whom it had been levelled in 
 the deepest affliction ; but, for all this, the 
 enthusiast, amidst his concern for these evils, 
 had not one prick of repentance. Was he, 
 then, void of every sense of humanity ? was 
 his heart insensible to the most urgent calls 
 of feeling and affection ? No I It was stored, 
 to the very brim, with choice and noble sym- 
 pathies ; it was naturally melting and pitiful 
 as a child's ; but the remembrance of horrors 
 
HILDEBRAND. 259 
 
 that it would curdle the blood to mention, 
 and which no interval of time could soften or 
 deface, locked up his gentle qualities, and 
 mailed his nature in revenge. 
 
 Walking" at a quick pace, he soon arrived 
 at Neville Park, and pursued his way, with- 
 out meeting any interruption, to the spot 
 where his appointment with Hildebrand was 
 to come off. It was some time past noon, the 
 hour agreed on : but though he looked round, 
 as far as he could see, in every direction, 
 there was no sign of Hildebrand coming. He 
 lingered about for an hour, walking to and 
 fro ; but, at the expiration of that period, he 
 was no nearer his object than at first. Al- 
 though, in the main, this was no more than he 
 had expected, it greatly increased his anxiety, 
 and tended to confirm his doubts of Hilde- 
 brand's safety. He remembered that Hilde- 
 brand was to take his departure from the 
 Grange to-day, on business which, at their 
 last interview, he had alleged to be extremely 
 
260 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 urgent; and he was assured, therefore, as 
 they could not meet again for some time, that, 
 if he were at liberty, he would make an effort 
 to keep his appointment. But another hour 
 passed, and Bernard, now grown impatient, 
 was still pacing the park-walk, and still 
 utterly alone. Wearied with his watch, he 
 began to grow angry, and, as he came to a 
 sudden pause, he gave utterance to his feel- 
 ings in a passionate exclamation. 
 
 " The scornful boy neglects me ! " he said. 
 " I will even take me homewards." 
 
 The idea of home reminded him that HiU 
 debrand had inquired after his residence, and 
 suggested, on a second thought, that, as he 
 might be unable to meet him in the park, it 
 was not improbable that he would seek him 
 there. Meditating on this probability, he de- 
 termined to repair to his lodgings at once. 
 
 It was in an obscure alehouse, distinguished 
 by the sign of the " Angel," and situated at 
 the further extremity of the neighbouring vil- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 26 
 
 lage of Lantwell, that Bernard had fixed hi^' 
 residence. Although an alehouse, however, 
 it was a retired tenement ; and old Cummer 
 Fisher, who was its proprietress, and only re- 
 sident beside himself, was rarely invaded by 
 any great influx of guests. Being at the 
 other side of Lantwell, it was two good 
 miles, if not more, from the spot he started 
 from ; but. after he had once determined w hat 
 course he would pursue, he set off* at a smart 
 pace, and shortly arrived before the hostel- 
 door. 
 
 But a brief greeting passed between Ber- 
 nard and his hostess, and, this despatched, he 
 proceeded to his own room, which was on the 
 upper floor. Here, secure from interruption, 
 he revolved over again all those reflections 
 and conjectures that he had started in Neville 
 Park, and impatiently waited for whatever 
 might be the issue. 
 
 But no tidings reached him that night. 
 The next morning, meditating as before, he 
 
262 HILDEBRAJ^D. 
 
 made certain that he would that day receive 
 some communication from Hildebrand; but, as 
 on the previous day, hour after hour passed, 
 and the morning* gradually elapsed, without 
 bringing him any intelligence of his friend's 
 situation. His worst apprehensions were now 
 becoming confirmed, and he began to have 
 no doubt, on mature and deliberate reflection, 
 that Shedlock had involved Hildebrand in the 
 charge which he had brought against Sir 
 Edgar de Neville, and had committed them 
 both to prison. 
 
 Directly this conjecture took full possession 
 of Bernard's mind, he formed a resolution to 
 ascertain, by immediate and personal inquiries, 
 how far it could be borne out by the facts. 
 The only way of prosecuting such a purpose, 
 in his situation — which, from his participation 
 in the outrage that all these troubles had 
 sprung from, prevented him from making any 
 inquiries at the Grange — was by repairing to 
 Exeter, and there learning who had been 
 
HILDEBRAND. 263 
 
 arrested ; and the course thus open to him, 
 though it was not unattended with some risk 
 to himself, he resolved to pursue. Accord- 
 ingly, having saddled and mounted his horse, 
 he set out, and pushed forward for Exeter. 
 
 It was night when he entered the city ; and 
 he thought it advisable, before he advanced 
 his mission any further, to provide himself a 
 lodging, and procure bait for his horse. Both 
 these objects being effected, he sallied forth 
 on foot, determined to leave no means un- 
 tried of finding out Hildebrand. 
 
 It was at the countinghouse of Shedlock 
 and Craftall, in the High-street, that Bernard 
 first paused in his excursion. The house 
 was shut up ; but in the part which might 
 be more properly called the countinghouse, 
 there was some trace of a light, peeping 
 through the outlines of the window-shutters, 
 which showed that one of the inmates was 
 yet astir. The room in question, like the 
 generality of commercial offices, opened into 
 
264 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 the street, and, consequently, Bernard was 
 able to approach the door, and there listen 
 a while before he solicited admittance. 
 
 AH was still within ; and it suddenly 
 occurred to Bernard, on meditating how he 
 should proceed, that it would be well to try 
 if the door were unfastened before he 
 knocked, and, should the result be favour- 
 able, enter without notice. In pursuance of 
 this design, he cautiously raised the latch, 
 and, pushing forward, the door flew open. 
 
 Hastily glancing in, Bernard perceived a 
 man at a contiguous desk, immediately in 
 front of a lighted lamp, whom he recognised 
 as Craftall. He was leaning forward, with 
 his elbows fixed on the desk, and his hands, 
 which were raised to a level with his lips, 
 clasped together before him, as if he were 
 engaged in prayer. Hearing Bernard's step, 
 he snatched up some article that, while he 
 was in the posture described, had been stand- 
 ing on the desk before him, and hastily 
 
HILDEBB4ND. 265 
 
 slipped it into one of the drawers; and then, 
 with the same precipitation, turned to see 
 who was his visiter. 
 
 His face was deadly pale, and his thin, 
 shrivelled lips, on his turning fully round, 
 were ag^itated by a nervous quiver, which 
 could only be caused by a very stirring 
 emotion. Whatever it might be that thus dis- 
 composed him, the discovery that his visiter 
 was Bernard Gray, whom he well knew, by 
 no means tended to inspire and embolden him 
 with new spirit. It was, however, no part of 
 Bernard's design, on the present occasion, to 
 suffer him to see that he was sensible of his 
 confusion, and, with the view of soothing and 
 diverting his suspicions, he at once proceeded 
 to draw him into discourse. 
 
 '' The good time of the night to thee, 
 Master Craftall," he said. " Hath Master 
 Shedlock been here of late ?" 
 
 Though his faculties were somewhat dis- 
 ordered, Craftall's characteristic caution, far 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
266 HILDEBRAXD. 
 
 from being asleep, was more prompt and 
 lively under the pressure of his embarrass- 
 ment, and he was less open to a surprise than 
 at a moment of composure. The inquiry of 
 Bernard, though deliberately and readily pro- 
 pounded, might signify nothing, and he be- 
 lieved that such was the case ; but, how- 
 ever this might be, it was his laudable and 
 discreet practice ever to be on his guard. 
 Being obliged, however, on the passing occa- 
 sion, to speak on the instant, and without 
 forethought, it was difficult to frame an 
 answer that would not some way commit him ; 
 and for once the man of craft hesitated. But 
 his hesitation was so transient, that it could 
 hardly be detected ; and, after a moment's 
 interval, he was prepared with a reply. 
 
 '' By dad, I don't know," he said. 
 
 Bernard smiled as he rejoined, '' Doth he 
 purpose to come here shortly ?" 
 
 " In faith, Master Bernard, 1 cannot say," 
 answered Craftall. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 267 
 
 Whether he sought to entangle him in talk, 
 or merely to amuse himself, Bernard did not 
 give over his inquiries with these rebuifs, but 
 continued to push the cautious merchant 
 for a straightforward answer. 
 
 " He still lives at New Bethlehem, I 
 ween ?'' he said. 
 
 " By my troth, 'tis not unlikely/' returned 
 Craftall. 
 
 It was clear that, say what he might, 
 Bernard would be able to draw but little 
 information from the wily trader ; but, for 
 all this, he was not iiiClined to let his project 
 fall to the ground. He saw that Craftall was 
 in momentary expectation of another visiter, 
 and he thought that, if hard pressed, he might 
 yield him seme information, in order to induce 
 him to retire. It was the fact of Craftall 
 glancing repeatedly at a contiguous door, 
 leading to an inner apartment, in the rear of 
 Bernard, that induced him to lend this con- 
 jecture credit; and, from the anxiety of his 
 
 N 2 
 
268 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 glances, Bernard judged rightly, that he would 
 regard his departure as a deliverance. For 
 the reason stated, however, he determined to 
 remain, and still sought to keep Craftall in 
 discourse. 
 
 " Be the report true, Master Craftall," he 
 pursued, '' that certain Papists have been 
 lately hatching a new plot ?" 
 
 Craftall, from whatever cause, was quite 
 disconcerted by this inquiry, and again ex- 
 hibited the liveliest confusion. Nevertheless, 
 he rendered his watchful interrogator a prompt 
 reply. 
 
 '' Worthy Master Jenkins, the city-bailiff, 
 hath told me there was such a report abroad," 
 he said. " Gentle Master Pry~" 
 
 At this moment, some person within, as it 
 seemed, inflicted on the door behind Bernard, 
 before alluded to, three distinct taps ; and the 
 speaker abruptly paused. 
 
 '' Some one calls," said Bernard, turning 
 towards the door ; " 1 had best see who it 
 be." 
 
HILDEBRAND. 
 
 "No, no! I will see to that myself!" 
 cried Craftall, springing nimbly before him. 
 
 Bernard, without objecting a word, suffered 
 him to pass him, and he pushed on to the 
 door. While he was yet on his way thither, 
 Bernard stepped softly round the desk, and, 
 with a quick and steady hand, drew open the 
 topmost drawer. It was in this drawer that, 
 on his first entry, he had observed Craftall 
 place some article which he snatched from 
 the desk, and which he evidently wished to 
 conceal. Anxious to discover his secret, Ber- 
 nard looked eagerly into the drawer, and 
 found that the object of his search was its 
 sole contents. With a trembling grasp, he 
 raised it to the light ; and his eyes lit up with 
 a sparkling frenzy, strangely at variance with 
 their previous serenity, as he discerned that 
 it was a crucifix. 
 
 Craftall had by this time reached the door. 
 Instead of drawing it open, however, he pro- 
 ceeded to lock it, and then, with a quiet 
 
270 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 smile on his face, turned to meet Bernard 
 again. As he did so, Bernard held up the 
 crucifix, and his smile, which had risen in 
 exultation, passed into a quick spasm. 
 
 " I hold thee mine I" cried Bernard. " Bat 
 the Spirit is upon me ! The fire thou wot*st 
 of, that makes saints, is blistering* my very 
 heart, l might do thee harm : so I'll leave 
 thee now." 
 
 Thus speaking, he made towards the outer 
 door. Before he could reach it, however, 
 Craflall, nerved by despair, sprang after him, 
 and fastened on his arm. 
 
 " Mercy ! mercy !" he said. 
 
 " Mercy to a Papist!" cried Bernard. 
 " Ha ! ha !" 
 
 And, with a slight effort, he threw the 
 supplicant from him, and dashed into the 
 street. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 True courage, distinguished from that which 
 is called forth by particular occasions, and 
 the operation of a powerful and headlong 
 excitement, comprehends not only a con- 
 tempt for danger, but self-possession under 
 surprise. To meet an expected peril, for 
 which we have had time to prepare, is a trial 
 only for the most ordinary minds ; but to 
 retain firmness and judgment under a shock, 
 attended by circumstances of which we could 
 have no possible anticipation, and which 
 render the danger more striking and formi- 
 dable, undoubtedly requires a brave and in- 
 trepid spirit. 
 
272 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 Hildebrand, on the entry into his retreat of 
 two armed men, one of whom he recognised 
 as an individual that he had supposed to be 
 in England, certainly experienced no small 
 surprise ; but, despite of this, he was perfectly 
 firm and collected. On the other hand, Inez 
 was quite confounded, and her presence of 
 mind, which she had hitherto maintained 
 entire, appeared to have utterly deserted 
 her. 
 
 There was no time for hesitation. The 
 two intruders, preparatory to making an 
 onset, had already unsheathed their rapiers, 
 and, if the expression of their respective 
 countenances might be received as evidence, 
 seemed to be stirred and animated by the 
 most determined hostility. The posture taken 
 up by Hildebrand, however, and his evi- 
 dent resolution, induced them to pause, and, 
 after a moment's interval, to enter on a 
 parley, 
 
 ^ Surrender, Sir!" cried Don Felix. «* We 
 
HILDEBRAND. 273 
 
 have a warrant from the corregidor, apart from 
 any suit of our own, for thine immediate 
 apprehension." 
 
 " I cry you mercy, Senhor," replied Hil- 
 debrand, " but, with thy good leave, I must 
 hold thy warrant in exceeding doubt. Thou 
 art no alguazil, I know ; and, this admitted 
 (and 'tis past dispute), where be the powers 
 that will put the warrant in force ?" 
 
 " Thou shalt see them anon," answered 
 Don Felix. And, raising his voice, he added, 
 in Spanish, " Without, there !" 
 
 He had scarcely uttered his brief sum- 
 mons, when the tread of feet was heard 
 without, and, the next moment, four alguazils, 
 armed with their long staves of office, pre- 
 sented themselves at the doorway. This 
 array, however, did not have that effect on 
 Hildebrand that the two cavaliers had ex- 
 pected. 
 
 '* Senhors,'* he cried, maintaining his ori- 
 ginal defensive posture," I have done your 
 
 N 3 
 
274 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 laws no offence, and I am resolved that ye 
 shall not take me alive. Look to it, there- 
 fore ! or your unprovoked opposition, if ye 
 press it further, may bring on you serious 
 detriment." 
 
 "Tut, Sir!" cried the cavalier who had not 
 yet spoken, contemptuously, '* dost think to 
 brave out such a power as ours?" 
 
 Hildebrand, seeing that nothing was to be 
 gained from parley, was about to manifest his 
 purpose by action, and, though the opposing 
 power was so decidedly superior, endeavour 
 to carry his egress by force. Before he 
 could commence his meditated assault, how 
 ever, he was arrested by Inez. 
 
 That lady, having for the last few minute 
 been perfectly passive, and left to recover 
 from the shock she had sustained, had by 
 this time somewhat collected herself. The 
 appearance of the alguazils, indeed, being 
 also unexpected, had slightly discomposed 
 her again ; but as she observed the unshaken 
 
HILDEBRAND. 275 
 
 attitude of Hildebrand, and, what surprised 
 her more, tiiat it was not without effect on 
 his adversaries, her determination revived, 
 and she acquired firmness and nerve from the 
 disposition of her lover. 
 
 There was a flush of anger on her face as 
 she stepped forward, and, though the cavalier 
 who had last spoken, and who was no other 
 than Don Gonzalez, her guardian, met her 
 with a smile, his look sank before her flash- 
 ing eye. 
 
 *' There is no need of the corregidor here, 
 Don Gonzalez," she cried, " or even of an 
 alcaide, as I know thee to be. This cavalier 
 is a guest of mine." 
 
 " And there is no need that thou shouldst 
 publish thine own dishonour,'' answered 
 Gonzalez. 
 
 " Thou liest, villain !'' returned Inez, 
 trembling with passion. " But beware ! be- 
 ware ! I will go bury me in a convent, but 1 
 will be revenged on thee!'' 
 
276 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 Gonzalez turned pale on hearing this 
 threat ; and though, at first sight, the injury 
 it would invoke against him might seem but 
 small, he did not shrink without good cause. 
 Whatever way he might ultimately dispose 
 of Inez, he would be able, by a little under- 
 hand dealing, to secure a large share of her 
 dower to himself, and, further, avoid all 
 troublesome accounts ; but if Inez should take 
 refuge in a convent, and unite herself with 
 the church, his views in that respect, how- 
 ever artfully contrived, would be utterly 
 frustrated. There was a long acconnt of 
 stewardship to make up, and, if that could 
 be accomplished, years of administration to 
 report on, which he knew the church would 
 not overlook ; and these reflections gave a 
 weight and importance to his ward's threat, 
 that he might well regard with great dismay. 
 
 His hesitation was not unobserved. Don 
 Felix, watching him intently, detected it in a 
 moment, and, seeing that he was silenced. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 277 
 
 began to fear that he would suffer Hildebrand 
 to escape. As he thought that such an issue 
 would be very unsatisfactory, and might in- 
 volve him in some difficulty, if not actual 
 peril, he deemed it advisable to interpose ; 
 and, by taking all blame from Gonzalez, 
 avert any further interference of the enraged 
 Inez. 
 
 '* Senhora,'' he said, " thy right to receive 
 what guests thou wilt cannot be questioned. 
 We apprehend the stranger, not because he 
 is thy guest, but because he is an Englishman, 
 and a spy," 
 
 " This is the second time, Sir Spaniard,' 
 cried Hildebrand, in Spanish, '' that thou hasi 
 named me a spy. I spared thy life before 
 do thou look to it now !" 
 
 Before any one could come between them 
 he dealt Don Felix a blow, on his first guard 
 that knocked his sword out of his hand ; anc 
 then made a spring at his throat. He hac 
 hardly seized his collar, however, when h« 
 
278 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 was himself laid hold of by the alguazlls, 
 who, under cover of his attack, had entered 
 the kitchen unnoticed, and now efifected his 
 capture. 
 
 But Inez, though the terror and excite- 
 ment of the scene had almost overpowered 
 her, was determined not to surrender him 
 without a strug-gie. She had observed, with 
 a quickness of perception that was not un- 
 usual in her, that her threat of retiring into 
 a convent had not fallen on her uncle un- 
 heeded; and at this juncture, the effect of its 
 first appliance emboldened her to recur to it. 
 
 *' Don Gonzalez, mind thee what I have 
 threatened,'' she said. '' Let the cavalier 
 depart, and I promise thee, afore these wit- 
 nesses, to abide myself by thy disposal." 
 
 '' Lady," cried Hildebrand, '' if thou wouldst 
 do me a service, let my state be made known 
 to the English Ambassador." 
 
 Don Felix, who, on being delivered from 
 the grasp of Hildebrand, had shrunk a pace 
 
HILDEBRAND. 279 
 
 or two back, here stepped forward again, and 
 darted at Hildebrand a glance of exultant 
 enmity. 
 
 **No need to trouble the lady, Sir," he 
 said ; "we will bear thy commands to the 
 Ambassador ourselves. But of what avail 
 were this? The Ambassador, whom thou 
 thinkst will succour thee, is in prison himself; 
 and his heretic servants have been attached 
 by the Inquij;ition." 
 
 " Thou liest again, knave I " exclaimed 
 Hildebrand, '' 'Tis more than Spain durst 
 venture on." 
 
 "Spain will venture more anon," said Don 
 Felix, sneeringly. *' Thou wilt soon find her 
 fleets in London river." 
 
 A light now struck upon Hildebrand, and 
 as he thought of the large ships of war which 
 he had seen in Cadiz harbour, and which pro- 
 bably were but a small part of the armament 
 in preparation, he was inclined to receive this 
 assertion with some degree of credence. But, 
 
280 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 whether it were true or not, he could have 
 no doubt about the danger of his own situa- 
 tion, or of the fact that, do what he might, 
 resistance would be perfectly fruitless. His 
 only resource, therefore, at the present mo- 
 ment, was to submit, and to reserve his efforts 
 to escape till a more favourable period. 
 
 "■ Ye will have to give an account of your 
 doings, nevertheless,'' he observed. '' But I 
 am your prisoner now ; bear me whither ye 
 will." 
 
 '' Ye know your orders, alguazils," cried 
 Don Felix. " Bear him off !" 
 
 '' Hold !" screamed Inez, "or, by the holy 
 mass, ye shall heartily rue it ! Don Gonza- 
 lez ! an' thou wouldst keep me from the 
 Sisters of Mercy, have the cavalier released." 
 
 " I durst not, Inez," answered her guar- 
 dian, in a deprecatory tone. 
 
 " Thou shalt ! thou shalt !" exclaimed Inez, 
 *' or, by sweet Jesu !— " 
 
 But the excitement, which she had all alon^; 
 
HILDEBRAND. 281 
 
 supported with difficulty, now shook her 
 brain, and, as she was making a step forward, 
 she reeled back, and broke into an hysterical 
 peal of laughter. She would have fallen, 
 but, whether from pity, or some motive of 
 interest, her uncle sprang to her assistance, 
 and caught her in his arms. 
 
 '" Away with the prisoner !" he cried to 
 Don Felix. *' 1 will myself look to my 
 ward." 
 
 The alguazils, on a signal from Don Felix, 
 tightened their hold of Hildebrand, and drew 
 him forth to the garden. Don Felix followed 
 them, and, under his direction, they pro- 
 ceeded to the garden-door, whence they 
 passed into the street. Here, enjoining them 
 to take good care of their prisoner, Don Felix 
 left them, and they pushed on with their 
 charge to the city-prison. 
 
 The prison, being situate at the other end 
 of the city, towards the mainland, was some 
 distance from their starting-point, and stood 
 
282 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 in a quarter to which flildebrand was a 
 stranger. But, walking- at a brisk rate, their 
 progress thither did not occupy them long, 
 and they soon came to a stand before the 
 prison-door. 
 
 But a few words of explanation passed 
 between tiie alguazils and the gaoler. These 
 rendered, Hildebrand was, without further 
 ceremony, pushed within the gaol-door, and 
 given over to the gaoler and his assistants. 
 Two of the last-named functionaries, by the 
 direction of their principal, instantly secured 
 him, and hastened to deprive him of his arms. 
 Having effected their purpose, they hurried 
 him down a flight of steps, at the lower end 
 of the passage, to a subterraneous dungeon, 
 where they left him in hopeless captivity. 
 
 , Solitude and bondage are melancholy com- 
 panions. Hearts that never knew the melting 
 influence of pity, or experienced the thrill 
 of fear, but met every vicissitude with a stern 
 and unbending front, have been cowed and 
 
HILDEBRAND. 283 
 
 overwhelmed by their first whispers, and have 
 been hurried on, by an enlarged and more 
 intimate fellowship, into distraction and de- 
 spair. They are a sort of living death, en- 
 closing the spark of life in a walled grave, 
 where the air, so sweet and buoyant without, 
 is pestilence, and one's breath corruption. 
 Acquainted with these, we seem to be dead 
 before our time, and yet, though shut out 
 from action, to live in thought, — to suffer all 
 the terror and captivity of the grave, and be 
 convulsed with the workings of a restless 
 vitality. 
 
 As he heard the fastenings of his dungeon- 
 door secured, a chill like that of death, if one 
 can form a conception of the last sensibility 
 of the dying, crept through the bosom of 
 Hildebrand. He was there alone — without 
 solace, without hope, without even God. 
 
 He durst not pray. The reflection that he 
 had been brought into this situation by his 
 own imprudence — nay, by a corrupt and 
 
284 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 abandoned selfishness, which affected the 
 peace of another — this reflection was upon 
 him ; and, when he thought of imploring the 
 protection of Heaven, it met his prayer in 
 his throat, and turned it back with a 
 reproach. 
 
 But the image of Inez, though predomi- 
 nant, was not his only accuser. If, urged 
 by despair, he drove it for a moment from his 
 mind, a hundred bitter and remorseful recol- 
 lections rushed into its place. His impru- 
 dence, if so mild a term may be retained, had 
 not only brought destruction on himself, 
 from which there was no prospect of escape, 
 but, in its consequences, would entail ruin on 
 others. He could not think of his ship, lying 
 in an enemy's harbour, within the range of 
 the batteries, and every moment liable to be 
 visited by the local officials, without a thrill 
 of anguish. Even his benefactor. Sir Walter 
 Raleigh, would not be exempt from the 
 effects of his folly ; and, in the utter failure 
 
HILDEBRAND. 285 
 
 of his design on the Mexican fleet, which he 
 had laboured so diligently to accomplish, and 
 in which he had embarked the chief part of 
 his fortune, would suffer irreparable detri- 
 ment. Nor did Hildebrand forget, while 
 pursuing this train of reflection, to charge 
 himself with having failed seriously in his 
 duty to his country. The assertion of Don 
 Felix, on his being arrested, that the Spanish 
 government contemplated the invasion of 
 England, and which the martial preparations 
 everywhere in progress amply corroborated, 
 afforded ground to his conscience for a more 
 startling accusation, and a more bitter and 
 excruciating reproach. 
 
 He had stood upright in his dungeon, 
 within a pace or two of the door, ever since 
 he had been left alone, without moving a 
 single step. The darkness around him, like 
 that of Egypt, could almost be felt ; but he 
 was insensible to it, and could only think, at 
 that moment, of his folly, his imprudence, 
 and his guilt. 
 
286 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 It may seem strange, on a superficial view, 
 that a man who had passed his life in action, 
 and had undergone all manner of vicissitudes 
 and perils, should be reduced by the first 
 touch of calamity to such utter prostration. 
 That a sudden blow to an even and pros- 
 perous life should fall with severity, and be 
 met by dejection, is no more than one might 
 expect ; but if it unman him who has been 
 adversity's companion, and, in his progress 
 onward, walked hand in hand with all the 
 accidents of war, it excites our surprise, and 
 scarcely seems reasonable, or possible. But, 
 however this may be borne out by ordinary 
 cases, it is no less true, in the particular in- 
 stance under consideration, that Hildebrand 
 did not meet the passing calamity with any 
 degree of fortitude. On the contrary, in- 
 deed, it found him totally unmanned, — his 
 spirit cowed, his mind foundering, and his 
 once brave heart, that a sense of rectitude 
 would have nerved against the heaviest tribu- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 287 
 
 lation, burthened and weighed down by an 
 overwhelming remorse. 
 
 It is often at the eleventh hour, when it is 
 too late|to make reparation, that a man be- 
 comes alive to the full effect of a past and 
 irretrievable excess. Even then, however, 
 if heartily resolved on amendment, it is pos- 
 sible to render the consequences of his tres- 
 pass less grievous and severe. A good 
 intention involves some of the benignant 
 influence of a good act ; and though we should 
 be unable to carry it into effect, the convic- 
 tion that it had received our best support, and 
 that its failure was not owing to any lack of 
 eflFort, but to causes beyond our reach, will 
 afford us a savour of that satisfaction and 
 cheerfulness that attend success. When we 
 conceive a sincere regret for wrong we have 
 inflicted on others, the heart is beginning to 
 expand, and, if we may use such a phrase, to 
 develop its resources; and though we may 
 writhe under the first and earlier visitings of 
 
288 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 self-accusation, and feel its continuance to be 
 torture, it will gradually call up in the heart 
 better and softer feeling-s, and, in our com- 
 passion for those we have injured, lend a 
 comfort and strength to ourselves. 
 
 Thus did Hildebrand ultimately attain a 
 certain degree of fortitude and composure. 
 As the reproaches of his conscience became 
 more familiar, and the terrors of his position, 
 from his surveying them over and over again, 
 lost their air of novelty, his manliness seemed 
 to revive, and, though he was still unutter- 
 ably miserable, his wretchedness was not 
 without dignity, and his remorse was no 
 longer despair. 
 
 But, notwithstanding the amelioration of 
 his distress, he remained pensive and restless 
 the whole night. The day — for even in the 
 gloom of his dungeon, to which perfect light 
 was unknown, there was a slight distinction 
 in the seasons, and he could tell the day from 
 the night — found him still awake, and still 
 rapt in anxious reflections. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 289 
 
 The morning was somewhat advanced 
 before he received a visit from the gaoler ; 
 and though, as his remorseful mood was 
 unshaken, the immediate features of his situa- 
 tion continued to press themselves on his 
 mind, this circumstance did not escape him. 
 It had hardly incurred his notice, however, 
 when, not without feeling some interest in 
 the issue, he heard the fastenings withdrawn 
 from the dungeon-door; and the door being 
 thereupon pushed open, the gaoler entered. 
 
 The grim functionary was not alone. He 
 was followed, a few paces in his rear, by a 
 short, broad-built friar, who, from his hesi- 
 tating step, appeared to enter the cell with 
 anything but complacency. 
 
 The friar, for whatever reason, had his 
 cowl drawn close, so that his face was in- 
 visible ; but, through the small eyelets of the 
 cowl, one could see a spark of gentleness in 
 his eyes, that at once recommended him to 
 favour. He carried a lighted lamp in his 
 
 VOL. I. O 
 
290 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 hand, and, on passing through the doorway, 
 he held it out before him, and glanced rapidly 
 round the limits of the dungeon. 
 
 Meantime, the gaoler, whom familiarity 
 with dungeons rendered less curious, ad- 
 vanced to the unhappy prisoner, and, with- 
 out a word of greeting, placed before him a 
 repast of bread and water. Leaving him to 
 regale himself therewith, he turned towards 
 the door again ; and the friar, who had by 
 this time finished his survey of the dungeon, 
 and fixed his eye so as to meet his, waved him 
 forth. 
 
 " Well, have thy will,'' said the gaoler, in 
 reply, «* but 'tis only till thou canst take his 
 confession, mind! I will wait thee without." 
 
 Thus sulkily complying, the gaoler passed 
 out of the dungeon, and drew-to the door 
 behind him. The friar, as though he looked 
 on his movements with suspicion, followed 
 him with his eye ; and, when he had passed 
 out, held up the light, with a fixed and steady 
 
HILDEBRAND. 291 
 
 hand, to see if he had closed the door. 
 Apparently satisfied on this point, he turned 
 away from the door, and stepped hastily 
 towards Hildebrand. 
 
 Hildebrand was in the further corner of 
 the dungeon, seated on the floor, with his 
 arms, to protect them from the cold, folded 
 close over his bosom, and his back resting 
 against the wall. The movements of the 
 friar, though he watched them earnestly, did 
 not induce him to alter his position, and he 
 waited his approach in the same posture. 
 
 The friar stood right before him. Coming 
 to a halt, he leaned his head a little forward ; 
 and with the hand which he had at liberty — 
 for he carried the light in his left hand — 
 threw back his cowl, and disclosed the fea- 
 tures of Inez. 
 
 Hildebrand, uttering an exclamation of 
 surprise, sprang to his feet, and caught her 
 by both her hands. 
 
 " Hush !" whispered Inez, perceiving that 
 
 o2 
 
292 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 he was about to speak : " remember, thy 
 surly keeper, though without the door, may 
 be within ear-shot. Moreover, what I have 
 to say must be told with despatch." 
 
 " Every word thou sayest/' answered Hil- 
 debrand, " is life and blood to me. Speak 
 on!" 
 
 But though he was so anxious to hear what 
 she had to say, Hildeb rand's attention was 
 not so wholly eogrossed by this object, above 
 every other, that he could look on Inez her- 
 self without emotion. Her appearance was 
 not calculated to encourage or confirm his 
 reviving fortitude. On throwing back her 
 cowl, her long black hair, which was wont to 
 be arranged with such exquisite taste, ap- 
 peared loose and dishevelled, and had evi- 
 dently been pushed behind her small ears with 
 a rude and careless haste. Her eyes were 
 red with recent weeping, and, withal, by their 
 quick and furtive glances, betrayed an anxiety 
 and restlessness, if not terror, that it was dis- 
 
HILDEBKAND. 293 
 
 tressing to behold. Her other features, as far 
 as the light rendered them apparent, looked 
 equally anxious, and her face was pale as 
 death. 
 
 A single glance was sufficient to reveal 
 these particulars to Hildebrand ; and by the 
 time Inez was ready to answer him, he was 
 able, with a slight effort, to give her state- 
 ment his undivided attention. 
 
 " I have ventured hither," she said, '* not 
 without imminent hazard, lest thou shouldst 
 think I had deserted thee, and so grow des- 
 perate. There is a young cavalier in this 
 city, right trusty in his disposition, whom I 
 know well — indeed, he is my cousin ; 
 and, through him, 1 think I may do thee some 
 service." ' 
 
 " What may he be ?" inquired Hildebrand, 
 eagerly catching at the slightest prospect of 
 succour. 
 
 " Little of himself," answered Inez ; " for 
 
294 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 he is a mere youth. Nevertheless, with thy 
 aid, and under thy counsel, he may do thee 
 great service. I will make it a suit to the 
 corregidor (who is a bachelor, and will be 
 well content to do me grace) to grant him 
 a pass to visit thee. When he is here, thou 
 mayst confer with him, and see how he can 
 help thee!" 
 
 A conference with such a person did not 
 promise to be attended with any material and 
 decided benefit ; but, in fortune's extremity, 
 we are inclined to look on every change, 
 whatever may be its aspect, with an eye of 
 favour, and to tender countenance and wel- 
 come to the most flimsy prospect. Incidents 
 that, like the images that the sun calls up on 
 a reflective lake, become mere shadows on 
 inspection, originally assume the shape and 
 attitude of substantial advantages ; and when 
 the turbulent flood of life is rushing merci- 
 lessly over us, a very thread of hope, which 
 
HILDEBRAND. 295 
 
 the eye can hardly distinguish, appears to be 
 a cable, and we seek to haul ourselves from 
 the depths by floating straws. 
 
 Hildebrand caught at the proposition of 
 Inez as if it had opened a channel for escape. 
 
 " How can 1 ever requite thee, dearest 
 lady ?" he said. *' I prithee, see the cavalier 
 use despatch in coming." 
 
 " Have no fear for that," answered Inez, 
 with unabated agitation. 
 
 '' There is one service he might do me ere 
 he come,'' pursued Hildebrand. '* Thou 
 knowest now (what I should have told thee 
 before, but from a fear of thy displeasure) 
 that I am an Englishman. Sooth to speak, 
 I am captain of an English cruizer, which 
 lies in the harbour yonder." 
 
 " Jesu shield us!" exclaimed Inez, with 
 lips that would have told her terror without 
 words. " Durst thou, then, to enter Cadiz 
 Harbour with a single cruizer ?'' 
 
 " ^Twas a perilous deed, certes," answered 
 
296 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 Hildebrand, «' and Heaven grant it prove not 
 fatal! But, to the point. My bark is the 
 outermost one in the harbour, and hath the 
 Scottish flag (St. Andrew's cross, red on 
 white) flying at the stern. I would the 
 cavalier would visit her." 
 
 Inez hesitated a moment. 
 
 " It shall be done," she said, at length. 
 
 " He must inquire out my lieutenant," re- 
 sumed Hildebrand. And, taking a ring from 
 his finger, he let it drop in the hand of Inez, 
 and continued ; — *' This ring will be ray token 
 to him ; and when he knows how I am fast — 
 But, down with thy cowl. 
 
 Inez, however, taken by surprise, turned 
 on his face a glance of bewilderment, and 
 made no attempt to give his injunction effect. 
 It was fortunate that Hildebrand immediately 
 perceived her hesitation, or the gaoler, whom 
 he heard entering, and had perceived to be 
 alert in his vocation, would have been upon 
 them before she had resumed her disguise. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 297 
 
 But observing that her presence of mind was 
 completely gone, he drew down her cowl 
 himself; and thus, by a prompt interposition, 
 which surprise could not arrest, deprived the 
 impending peril of half its terror. 
 
 He had hardly drawn down her cowl when 
 the gaoler entered. A terrible degree of fear 
 had come over Inez; and by one of those 
 revolutions of the system which it is impos- 
 sible to account for, and which are effected 
 in a moment — as though the loose thought 
 that they must originally spring from, having 
 snapped under the weight and pressure of 
 tlie occasion, had shaken and unbraced every 
 faculty — by one of those strange revolutions, 
 her excited nerves were left without restraint, 
 and her imagination without a bridle. A 
 dreadful infatuation fell upon her; and, with 
 this in her mind, she was prompted to throw 
 off her disguise, and yield herself a prisoner 
 to the gaoler. Fortunately, however, her 
 subjection to the morbid influence was but 
 
 o3 
 
298 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 momentary. Recklessness of herself, though 
 it was supreme for an instant, was quickly 
 overtaken by affection for Hildebrand, and, 
 with the magic presence of lo\'e, her spirit 
 revived, and her self-possession was recovered. 
 
 The gaoler entered with a dogged look, 
 as if he were determined, whether Hilde- 
 brand had been confessed or no, that he 
 would allow of no longer conference. 
 
 *' St. Jago be gracious !" he cried, " hath 
 he not got his shrift yet, father ?'* 
 
 " 1 have done," answered Inez, in a feigned 
 voice. ** Let him be looked to !" 
 
 '' Ay, ay, he shall be looked to, I'll war- 
 rant thee,'* rejoined the gaoler, with a grin. 
 " That be good, i' faith — very good!" 
 
 Inez, who was not disposed to talk, made 
 no reply to his observations, but proceeded 
 in silence to the door. The gaoler followed 
 her, and, drawing open the door, they passed 
 into the passage beyond. Having effected 
 their egress, the gaoler, lingering behind, 
 
HILDEBRAND. 299 
 
 drew to and secured the door ; and Hilde- 
 brand was again the sole inmate of the 
 dungeon. 
 
 Want of rest had rendered his mind less 
 obedient to its helm than usual ; but, for all 
 this, it had derived great solace, and even 
 strength, from the visit of Inez. It may 
 seem a strange anomaly, but observation will 
 prove it to be true, that, after we have been 
 writhing under the pressure of despair, we 
 are most disposed, by the constitution of our 
 nature, to give free room to the least inspira- 
 tion of hope. This singular fact was exem- 
 plified in Hildebrand. He was still unhappy, 
 but, though his prospects had undergone no 
 sensible amelioration, he was no longer hope- 
 less. If his interview with Inez should 
 result in no personal benefit, it at least 
 afiforded him an assurance that his situation 
 would be communicated to his friends, and, 
 whatever might be the issue, some effort 
 
300 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 would be made, he was certain, to set him at 
 liberty. 
 
 Revolving these reflections in his mind, the 
 misery of his situation became considerably 
 alleviated ; and though, every now and then, 
 as he remembered the nature of his connexion 
 with Inez, and how tenderly she had shown 
 herself to be attached to him, his breast would 
 be visited by an involuntary pang, his forti- 
 tude was now fixed on a solid and stable 
 foundation. He was not free, it is true, from 
 the depressing effect of a want of repose; 
 but his thoughts being no longer swayed by 
 distraction, he was better able to seek repose, 
 a>nd more open to its approaches. 
 
 Sleep stole upon him insensibly. It was 
 late in the night ere he awoke, and, though 
 not at ease, he felt considerably refreshed. 
 Rising to stretch his limbs, his foot struck 
 against something on the floor ; and, with 
 more curiosity than the circumstance seemed 
 
HILDEBRAND. 301 
 
 to warrant, or his position to admit of, he 
 stooped to ascertain what it was. It was a 
 large flagon, filled with water ; and on pass- 
 ing his hand round the outside, he found a 
 small loaf also; and he remembered it was 
 the meal which the gaoler had left him in the 
 morning. 
 
 The provision was far from being unwel- 
 come, and Hildebrand, not without a good 
 appetite, proceeded to discuss it. Having 
 finished his meal, and warmed himself by a 
 little exercise, he lay down again, and with 
 some degree of patience waited the coming 
 of day. 
 
 Conformably to his expectations, he was 
 visited in the morning by the gaoler, who, as 
 on the preceding morning, brought him his 
 day's provision. From this time, he was in 
 momentary expectation, through the whole 
 of the day, of hearing from Inez ; but every 
 succeeding moment brought him only dis- 
 
302 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 appointment. The evening came on, and 
 night ; and he was still without intelligence 
 of his anxiously expected visiter. 
 
 His suspense sank into depression as the 
 night advanced, and, from the unlooked-for 
 delay, he began to fear that Inez had been 
 unable, by her own unaided efiForts, to bring 
 the design which they had concerted into 
 effect. While, however, he was yet ponder- 
 ing on his not unreasonable fear, he thought 
 that he heard footsteps approaching. The 
 matter was not long doubtful; for, before 
 he could well be said to be listening, he heard 
 the massy bolts of the dungeon-door shot 
 back ; and by the time he had sprung to his 
 feet (which he did almost instantaneously), 
 the door was thrown open. 
 
 Two persons entered, one of whom, from 
 the light which he carried in his hand, Hilde- 
 brand perceived to be the gaoler ; and he 
 supposed the other to be his expected ally. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 303 
 
 His supposition was shortly confirmed ; for 
 the cavalier, having taken the lamp from the 
 gaoler, came more into the light, and, on 
 near inspection, was seen to wear the guise 
 and appointments of a gentleman. 
 
 He was, as Inez had described him, a mere 
 stripling, and seemed to have scarcely seen 
 his sixteenth year. But it was more by his 
 face that his youth was apparent, in his pre- 
 sent attire, than by his form. So far as the 
 latter could be seen, through the fall of his 
 deep-brown cloak, it was round and full, and 
 almost matured. At the waist, it is true, it 
 was slender in the extreme ; but the broad 
 volume of his chest, and the full and graceful 
 outline of his shoulders, which could be traced 
 on the outside of his cloak, showed that he 
 was well proportioned, and, at a little dis- 
 tance, might be thought to be verging on 
 manhood. His face was almost too beautiful 
 for a man's ; and its resemblance to that of 
 
304 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 Inez, especially about the nose and eyes, was 
 so striking, that Hildebrand discerned it 
 directly. He wore a light moustache abo?e 
 his mouth, and under his nether lip, where it 
 fell into the chin, a subordinate imperial. But 
 it was his movements, more than anything 
 else, that fixed attention ; for his step was 
 like light, and, in its carriage of his person, 
 displayed a grace and dignity surpassing 
 man's. 
 
 It will readily be supposed, from this de- 
 scription, that, however greatly the cavalier 
 might excite Hildebraud's admiration, his 
 appearance was not calculated to inspire him 
 with a reasonable hope that he would be able 
 to afford him any succour. Hildebrand con- 
 ceived such an impression of him on the 
 instant. The high expectations that he had 
 entertained were dissipated, and, now that he 
 seemed to have reached a crisis, his heart 
 turned cold with despair. 
 
HILDEBRAXD. 305 
 
 But he had no time to follow up his gloomy 
 reflections. He had hardly eflFected his sur- 
 vey of the stranger's person, by which the 
 feeling described had been prompted, when 
 that individual, without knowing how his 
 thoughts were occupied, drew his attention 
 to other matters. 
 
 '' Thou mayst retire,'' he said to the gaoler. 
 
 " May I, forsooth?" answered the gaoler, 
 *' By the holy rood, I take it mighty kindly 
 of thee to give me such great licence. How- 
 beit, I be disposed to stay." 
 
 '' How ?" rejoined the cavalier. *' Did not 
 I give thee the corregidor's pass ?*' 
 
 " But that said nought of my leaving thee 
 alone with the prisoner," replied the gaoler, 
 who, with the rapacity of his profession, was 
 looking out for a small douceur. " No ! no, 
 Senhor ? TU even stay, an' it please thee." 
 
 *'Then, shalt thou stay altogether!" cried 
 the cavalier, vehemently. And, drawing a 
 
306 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 pistol from under his cloak, he levelled it at 
 the gaoler's breast. *' Secure him !" he added 
 to Hildebrand. 
 
 It was a happy circumstance that Hilde- 
 brand fulfilled this injunction with prompti- 
 tude, or the nervous agitation of the cava- 
 lier's extended arm, not to mention the 
 tremor of his voice, which, in his utter sur- 
 prise and consternation, the gaoler did not 
 observe, would have made it immediately 
 apparent that his prowess and resolution 
 might be easily overcome. Before the gaoler 
 could collect himself, however, Hildebrand, 
 fav^oured by his bewilderment, sprang boldly 
 on his chest, and grappled him in both his 
 arms. They struggled for a few moments 
 with fearful earnestness and energy. Hilde- 
 brand 's first assault, while the gaoler was 
 uncollected, had given him some advantage, 
 and he had been enabled to secure the gaoler's 
 arms ; but, as the struggle proceeded, the 
 
HILDEBRAND. 307 
 
 gaoler gained ground, and got his right arm 
 free. He had his back planted against the 
 door, and one of his short, bandy legs, by 
 way of outwork, pushed between the legs of 
 Hildebraud, so that the latter could not well 
 throw him ; and on obtaining the freedom of 
 his right arm, this enabled him to maintain 
 his position with the other, and make his 
 right arm the vehicle of offensive measures. 
 While Hildebrand was striving to throw him 
 to the ground, he dropped his hand into his 
 girdle, and, with a sudden jerk, drew forth a 
 long knife. From the position of Hildebrand, 
 however, he could not use it within, as he 
 had intended ; and he was obliged to draw it 
 forth, and seek to stab him in the back. 
 
 All this time, the young Spanish cavalier^ 
 with a singular and unaccountable inde- 
 cision, had remained perfectly quiescent. 
 He seemed, indeed (if the truth must be told), 
 to be overwhelmed with fear, and to possess 
 
308 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 neither the will nor the power to interpose. 
 But his irresolute disposition did not continue. 
 As he saw the long knife of the gaoler raised 
 above Hildebrand's back, on the point of 
 dealing him a deadly wound, his indecision 
 appeared to vanish, and, whether from the 
 impulse of the ^moment, or a more manly 
 agency, his spirit to revive. 
 
 " Jesu ! he will stab him !" he exclaimed. 
 
 With these words, he sprang nimbly for- 
 ward, and seized the uplifted arm of the 
 gaoler with both his hands. At the same 
 moment, Hildebrand, hearing his exclama- 
 tion, looked up, and perceived his danger. 
 The incident seemed to nerve him with new 
 determination, and, throwing all his streugth 
 into his grasp, he seized the gaoler by the 
 shoulders, and threw him bodily to the 
 ground. As he fell, his head came in contact 
 with the wall of the dungeon, and the con- 
 cussion, with the fall, rendered him senseless. 
 
HILDEBRAND. 309 
 
 *' 'Tis bravely done,'* said the young cava- 
 lier. " We will now go forth. But, hist !" 
 
 " They are footsteps !" whispered Hil- 
 debrand. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 HiLDEBRAND CLIFFORD, on distinguishing the 
 sound that had alarmed him to be the tread 
 of an approaching foot, gently laid his hand 
 on the arm of the young Spaniard, who was 
 a pace or two nearer the door, and drew him 
 back. The sound came nearer, and Hilde- 
 brand felt his friend's arm, which he still held, 
 tremble violently. His agitation, though it 
 might be owing to his extreme youth, and the 
 novelty and strong excitement of the occa- 
 sion, more than downright cowardice, greatly 
 degraded him in the estimation of Hildebrand, 
 and he began to regard him with some degree 
 
HILDEBRAND. 311 
 
 of contempt. But recollecting that it was to 
 serve him the young cavalier had placed him- 
 self in danger, the feeling had scarcely found 
 harbourage in his bosom, on the spur of the 
 discovery, when he repelled it ; and the irre- 
 solution of the Spaniard only rendered him 
 more prompt and decided. 
 
 The former seemed to be sensible that it 
 was on Hildebrand their safety depended. 
 On coming behind the door, he presented 
 him with his pistols ; and, without interchang- 
 ing a word, or manifesting the least hesitation, 
 yielded himself passively to his control. 
 
 Meantime, the unfriendly footstep, after 
 approaching close to the door, suddenly 
 paused, and the door was pushed open. As 
 the door opened, it screened Hildebrand and 
 his ally, who, with this view, had placed 
 themselves on the inner side of it; and, 
 consequently, the person entering did not 
 observe them. Nor could they, at the first 
 start, survey him, being equally blinded by 
 
 p2 
 
312 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 the door, though, from his ignorance of what 
 had passed, he alone was open to surprise. 
 To take him by surprise was Hildebrand's 
 object. Directly he heard him clear the range 
 of the door, and before he could glance round 
 the dungeon, he threw the door back, and, 
 while he thus cut off his retreat, prepared to 
 reduce him to subjection. 
 
 The individual thus surprised was one of 
 the gaoler's assistants. He was a short man, 
 and, though thick-set, of a frame that, in a 
 struggle for mastery, would render him but a 
 poor match for the muscular energies of Hil- 
 debrand. He was, moreover, except for a 
 long knife which was thrust through his 
 girdle, unarmed, and further incapacitated 
 for offensive measures by his surprise. 
 
 His first glance had informed him of the 
 position of affairs in the dungeon, and, with 
 the door closed against retreat, his survey, it 
 may be supposed, was not calculated to en- 
 courage him. While he was yet overwhelmed 
 
HILDEBRAND. 313 
 
 with alarm, Hildebrand, seizing his arm with 
 one hand, levelled one of his pistols at him 
 with the other, and, in a decided and peremp- 
 tory tone, proceeded to require his surrender. 
 
 " Lie thee down there,'' he said, pointing 
 to where his master, the gaoler, still lay sense- 
 less, " and no harm shall come to thee. If 
 thou hesitate, I will straight take thy life." 
 
 The man, however, did hesitate, though 
 only for a moment. Seeing that Hildebrand 
 displayed no indecision, he shortly fulfilled 
 his injunction, and laid himself down by the 
 gaoler without a word. 
 
 All these incidents, which it has taken so 
 long to describe, scarcely occupied a moment, 
 and, as has been remarked, the gaoler was 
 still insensible. Hildebrand did not fail to 
 seize this advantage. Directly the gaoler's 
 man had lain down, he hastened to secure 
 him, and, at the same time, further secure 
 his master, by tying them together by their 
 arms and legs. Their leather girdles, with 
 
314 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 the sash of his companion, which he quickly 
 possessed himself of, supplied him with the 
 necessary bonds ; and, in a moment after the 
 design had occurred to him, they no longer 
 afforded him ground for any apprehension. 
 
 Having tied them well together, he turned 
 to his ally. 
 
 ''Now, Senhor, quick!" he said. "Take 
 up the light, and lead the way." 
 
 The young Spaniard, with a trembling 
 hand, which Hildebrand did not overlook, 
 caught up the lamp, and drew open the door. 
 Hildebrand followed him into the passage, 
 when, turning round, he paused to secure the 
 door. Having drawn it home to the jamb, 
 and shot the bolts into their sockets, he pre- 
 pared to set forward again. 
 
 '* Art thou well advised of the way?" he 
 whispered to his companion. 
 
 *' Right surely," answered the other. «' But 
 there is a chamber on one side of the door, 
 overlooking the passage, where, when I en- 
 
HILDEBRAND. 315 
 
 tered, there was an alguazil on guard. 1 
 waited there, on ray entry, while the gaoler 
 examined ray pass ; and I noted that the al- 
 guazil was armed." 
 
 Although Hildebrand had reraarked in the 
 young cavalier what he could not but consider 
 as traces of cowardice, the manner in which he 
 delivered this inforraation, and the forethought 
 and judgment revealed by its acquisition, 
 effaced the impression he had conceived in 
 that respect, and quite restored him to his 
 esteem. Indeed, he began to think, from his 
 present bearing and aspect, that the manifes- 
 tations which he had supposed to indicate 
 pusillaniraity were rather the effect of the 
 passing excitement, and that it was the no- 
 velty of his situation, not its peril, that had 
 so sensibly agitated him. He did not pause 
 to make these reflections, but, with the quick- 
 ness of perception peculiar to his profession, 
 caught them on the instant ; and then ren- 
 dered his reply. 
 
316 HILDEBRANB. 
 
 " *Twas most admirably noted, Senhor/* 
 he said. " Take good heart now ; and lead 
 the way." 
 
 The Spaniard, without making a reply, 
 hereupon stepped forward, and preceded 
 Hildebrand up a contiguous flight of steps. 
 On reaching the summit, they found them- 
 selves in a short passage, which was crossed, 
 a little higher up, by another passage, running 
 the whole length of the gaol. Glancing up 
 the passage on his right hand, Hildebrand 
 distinguished the gaol-door ; and on one side 
 of this, in the wall of the passage, the open 
 door of the guard-chamber. A flood of light 
 issued from the latter doorway ; and the 
 necessity for their own light being thus su- 
 perseded, Hildebrand signed to his compa- 
 nion, who was waiting his directions, to lay 
 it down. He then waved him to the rear, 
 and, with a cautious but unhesitating step, led 
 the way himself. 
 
 All was quiet. But the guard-chamber, if 
 
HILDEBRAND. 317 
 
 the light were any evidence, was no doubt 
 tenanted, and probably by more persons than 
 one. It is true, it was close to the door ; but 
 its proximity, far from being advantageous, 
 was rather adverse to a clandestine egress, 
 and, as the door of the chamber was wide 
 open, to pass it unobserved was almost be- 
 yond their hopes. Even should they be able 
 to accomplish this object, they had still to 
 open the gaol-door, which, at the least, was 
 well secured with bolts, and might possibly 
 be locked. 
 
 Hildebrand was fully alive to these varied 
 difficulties. After he had once stepped for- 
 ward, however, he did not pause, but pur- 
 sued his way undaunted. 
 
 They passed along on tiptoe. They or- 
 dered their movements so noiselessly, that 
 the silence, unbroken by their progress, rang 
 in their ears, and they could almost hear the 
 beat of their own hearts. A few paces 
 
 brought them in a line with the door, and 
 
 p3 
 
318 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 Hildebrand, emboldened by the prevailing 
 stillness, ventured to peep round. 
 
 In a line with the door, on the further side 
 of the chamber, was a fire ; but the smoke 
 which issued from it passed pretty regularly 
 through the chimney-hole in the roof, and 
 the view, though clouded, was no way broken. 
 A man stood before the fire, warming one of 
 his hands ; and though he had his back to the 
 door, a lighted lamp which hung from the 
 roof, about midway across, enabled Hilde- 
 brand to observe that he was armed. Indeed, 
 one of his hands, which was thrown back 
 from the fire, clasped the barrel of a caliver, 
 the butt of which rested on the floor; and 
 even if he had no other weapon, he was in 
 this invincible. 
 
 As Hildebrand observed his disposition, he 
 mechanically raised his pistol, and levelled it 
 at his head. But, though self-preservation is 
 an overpowering impulse, the truly brave 
 heart, however excited, will always shrink 
 
HILDEBRAND. 319 
 
 from a sacrifice of life ; and Hildebrand had 
 scarcely extended his pistol when he drew it 
 back. Still holding the pistol in his hand, 
 he placed the other hand, which he had at 
 liberty^ on the arm of his companion, and 
 passed that person towards the gaol-door. 
 
 The young Spaniard reached the door in a 
 moment. The guard, as in the first instance, 
 still kept his face to the fire, and evidently 
 felt perfectly secure. Satisfied with his dis- 
 position, Hildebrand resolved to pass the 
 aperture himself. He had reached the middle 
 of the doorway, when, feeling secure of the 
 guard, he ventured to turn off his gaze, and 
 glance at his companion. Just as he did so, 
 the guard, whether from a desire to change 
 his position, or that he heard something to 
 alarm him, wheeled round from the fire, and 
 perceived him. He raised his caliver directly, 
 and, with a steady aim, levelled it at Hilde- 
 brand's head. 
 
 '' Stand !" he cried, *' or I fire !" 
 
320 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 Hildebrand stood as still as a statue. To 
 move was certain death ; for the guard, 
 besides that he stood right opposite to him, 
 was scarcely twelve paces distant. His com- 
 panion, although, from his being under the 
 cover of the passage- wall, he could not see 
 the guard, fully understood his situation, and 
 saw that his first movement would probably 
 be his last. A spasm passed over his face as 
 this horrible truth occurred to him. For a 
 moment — not only as regarded his person, 
 but his complexion — he seemed perfectly 
 petrified : then, with recovered energy, he 
 darted forward, and threw himself between 
 Hildebrand and his enemy. 
 
 His unexpected obtrusion evidently threw 
 the latter off his guard. Before he could 
 recover himself, Hildebrand had raised his 
 pistol, and they now, to a certain extent, 
 stood almost on an equality. Hildebrand 
 knew that, in this situation, a great deal would 
 depend on having the first shot, and that that 
 
HILDEBRAND. 321 
 
 alone could save him. Pausing only to push 
 back his companion, he steadied his aim, and 
 fired. 
 
 The alguazil fired almost at the same in- 
 stant. The young Spaniard, whom Hilde- 
 brand had just before pushed under cover, 
 heard both the reports at once, and watched 
 for the result with the most intense terror. 
 To his great joy, Hildebrand, when the smoke 
 passed away, appeared wholly unhurt ; but a 
 heavy fall in the chamber, following the last 
 report, intimated that such was not the case 
 with his adversary. The flash of Hildebrand's 
 pistol, which his eager eyes instantly detected, 
 had shaken the alguazil's aim, and his charge 
 passed harmlessly over Hildebrand's shoulder. 
 Before he could observe its effect, he received 
 Hildebrand's charge in the centre of his fore- 
 head, and fell to the floor a corpse. 
 
 The report of the fire-arms, which the pre- 
 vailing silence carried a good distance, raised 
 an alarum throughout the gaol, and voices and 
 
322 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 footsteps were heard in every direction. The 
 fugitives had not a moment to spare ; for the 
 door, if it happened to be locked, might still 
 cut off their retreat, and, in any case, pre- 
 sented an obstacle not to be trifled with. 
 
 The young Spaniard, who had recently 
 displayed such heroism, seemed to have lost 
 his self-possession again, and stood perfectly 
 still. Fortunately, however, Hildebrand's 
 characteristic promptitude, which was un- 
 shaken, made up for his inertness. Directly 
 he saw the alguazil fall, he sprang towards 
 the gaol- door ; and gently drawing back his 
 companion, who, in his distraction, had 
 thrown himself right in bis way, proceeded 
 to examine it. 
 
 The door was secured by two massy bolts, 
 one at the bottom, and the other at the top ; 
 and a lock, from the keyhole of which, at- 
 tached to the key of the door, was suspended 
 a bunch of large keys. Hildebrand drew 
 back the bolts in a moment, and, with the 
 
HILDEBRAND. 323 
 
 same despatch, turned back the key, and 
 pulled the door open. 
 
 The night, though not far advanced, was 
 pitchy dark, and thus calculated to cover 
 their retreat. Although, howe\rer, it was so 
 far in their favour, it was not altogether pro- 
 pitious, inasmuch as the darkness prevented 
 them from pursuing their way with that ac- 
 curacy that they would have done in the 
 light. There were three or four steps at the 
 door, leading into the gaol-yard ; and, on 
 darting out of the doorway, Hildebrand only 
 escaped falling over these steps, which he 
 could not distinguish, by his prolonged spring. 
 Thus held up, be alighted unhurt in the yard, 
 and pushed forward amain. 
 
 The yard, after passing along the front of 
 the gaol, turned a little higher up, and con- 
 tinued its course along one of its sides. It 
 was enclosed by a stone wall, about ten feet 
 high ; but at its further extremity, fronting 
 the side of the gaol, there was an iron gate, 
 
324 . HILDEBRAND. 
 
 which it would not be difficult to scale. Hil- 
 debraud, though the internal structure of the 
 gaol had escaped his memory, remembered 
 these particulars, and, having once reached 
 the yard, he made for the gate directly. 
 
 As he came to the corner of the gaol, where 
 the yard turned along the side, he was about 
 to wheel round, when he ran against a man, 
 with his arms extended for action, who was 
 approaching from the opposite quarter. 
 
 They both started back a few paces. 
 
 ** Avast there, mate !'' cried the stranger, 
 in English. " What cheer V 
 
 *' Halyard !" exclaimed Hildebrand, recog- 
 nising the voice of his chief mariner. " How 
 camest thou here ?" 
 
 '« I came with the Don to the gate," an- 
 swered Halyard. "Hearing fire-arms, I guessed 
 ye were making way ; and so, not to miss 
 sport, came to lend a hand. The gate is open." 
 
 " Where is our friend ?" cried Hildebrand, 
 looking round.'' 
 
HILDEBUAND. 325 
 
 The young Spauiard, instead of being be- 
 hind him, as he supposed him to be, was 
 nowhere visible. Though the din within tlie 
 gaol was now greatly heightened, and indi- 
 cated that pursuit was close upon them, 
 Hildebrand, on ascertaining this, sprang back 
 to the gaol-door, determined to perish rather 
 than leave him behind. 
 
 On gaining the door, be found him lying 
 on the steps. In the hurry of his egress, and 
 the prevailing darkness, the steps had escaped 
 his observation, and, striding heedlessly for- 
 ward, he had fallen over them. Hildebrand, 
 though concerned at his situation, did not 
 pause to inquire how this had happened, but, 
 without a word of greeting, caught him up in 
 his arms, and thus proceeded to carry him oif. 
 
 They reached the gate without being inter- 
 rupted. Halyard, who had closely followed 
 Hildebrand, then led the way, and Hildebrand 
 followed with the young cavalier. 
 
 After they had gone a short distance, the 
 
326 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 last-named personage, addressing Hildebrand, 
 expressed a desire to be set on his feet, as he 
 was perfectly able to pursue his way unaided. 
 Hildebrand, who had caught him up with the 
 impression that he was seriously hurt, in- 
 stantly complied with his request ; but, at the 
 same time, declared that he would see him 
 bestowed in safety, either at his own resi- 
 dence, or that of Donna Inez, before he pro- 
 ceeded further. 
 
 " There is no safety here now," answered 
 the cavalier, in an agitated voice, '* for either 
 thee or me. I must with thee to England.'' 
 
 Hildebrand was silent. 
 
 " Think not," resumed the cavalier, with 
 increased agitation, " that I would impose 
 myself on thee at thy charge. I have left a 
 casket on board thy ship, under care of thy 
 lieutenant here, that will more than meet my 
 expenditure. Howbeit, rather than put thee 
 to trouble " 
 
 '• Prithee name it not, Senhor,'' replied 
 
HILDEBRAND. 327 
 
 Hildebrand. '' All that 1 have, to my very 
 life, is thine, and shall be to the last. Go 
 with me, an' thou wilt. But,'' he added, in a 
 lower tone, so as not to be heard by Halyard, 
 '' shall we not see thy fair cousin first ?" 
 
 " Dost thou so love her, then ?" asked the 
 cavalier. And Hildebrand thought that his 
 small, soft hand, which he still held in his, 
 trembled a little, and lost itself in his clasp. 
 
 *' 1 would see her before we go," Hilde- 
 brand answered ; " for we may never meet 
 again.'' 
 
 The cavalier drew back his hand. 
 
 ** She will not see thee," he said, hastily. 
 '' She hath given me a billet for thee, wherein, 
 as I understood her, she so tells thee her 
 mind. Wilt thou read it ?" 
 
 Then, without raising his eyes, which for 
 the last few minutes had been fixed on the 
 ground, he presented Hildebrand with a 
 sealed billet. The latter person eagerly 
 accepted it, and, with an involuntary sigh, 
 thrust it into his vest. 
 
328 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 They had lingered behind during this brief 
 dialogue. When Hildebrand had disposed of 
 the Donna's note, he stepped forward more 
 boldly, and they shortly came abreast of 
 Halyard. 
 
 " Art thou making for the mole?" asked 
 Hildebrand of that person. 
 
 " No, captain, but for the beach," answered 
 Halyard. " 1 have a boat off the beach, with 
 muffled oars?" 
 
 " Muffled oars?" echoed Hildebrand. 
 
 '* Faith, 1 forgot to tell thee, captain," 
 rejoined Halyard ; *' but the Dons boarded 
 us this morning. They seemed to be satisfied, 
 after well overhauling us, that we were Scots ; 
 but, since then, we have a great gun-boat 
 anchored alongside of us, and I doubt not 
 are closely watched.'' 
 
 " An' the moon rise not quickly," ob- 
 served Hildebrand, *' we may baffle them." 
 
 Halyard, whether because he was of a 
 different opinion, or that he conceived his 
 
HILDEBRAND. 329 
 
 sentiments to be unimportant, made no reply, 
 and they pursued their way in silence. After 
 a short interval, they came to the water-side, 
 and passed directly to the beach. 
 
 Not a person was about, and the dark hulls 
 of the shipping, scattered here and there 
 over the water, at various distances, were the 
 only objects that could be distinguished. 
 After progressing for a few minutes, however, 
 the quick eyes of the two Englishmen, used 
 to maritime observation, discerned the less 
 striking outline of their boat. It was lying 
 afloat, a length or two out from the beach, 
 with its oars — whether as a precaution against 
 surprise, or for some less obvious purpose — 
 shipped for service, and its coxswain stationed 
 ready at the rudder. 
 
 A shrill whistle from Halyard, with a cry 
 of " Boat ahoy !" uttered in a low but distinct 
 tone, reached the coxswain's ears, and the 
 boat was instantly shot up to the beach. Hal- 
 yard and Hildebrand, as by a preconcerted 
 
330 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 arrangement, hereupon stepped on one side, 
 with the view of allowing the young Spaniard 
 to pass in first ; but that person, by a negative 
 inclination of his head, declined the prece- 
 dence, and waved them foremost. 
 
 While, in compliance with his wish, they 
 were stepping into the boat, the young cava- 
 lier turned round from the water, and glanced 
 earnestly over the indistinct lines of the city. 
 It was his native place ; and though, if truly 
 viewed, it might hold none who had any 
 claim on his affections, there habit must have 
 fixed his thoughts, and early associations have 
 rooted his ambition. 
 
 Whatever were the ties that connected him 
 with home, there was something singularly 
 distressing, to a sensitive mind, in the pros- 
 pect opened by their dismission. He was 
 about to s(art into the wide world — to discard 
 the dearest impressions of nature— to relin- 
 quish country, kindred, and birthright, and to 
 trust himself, wholly and unreservedly, to the 
 
HILDEBRAND. 331 
 
 protection and companionship of strangers. 
 How might not the confidence he reposed in 
 those persons be abused ! National preju- 
 dice, and, what was more influential, his 
 religion, held them to be enemies; they had 
 been stigmatised as spies ; they might be 
 pirates. His lip quivered — probably with 
 hesitation — as the thought occurred to him, 
 and his noble bosom, which for his years dis- 
 played uncommon volume, heaved sensibly. 
 
 But his indecision was only momentary. 
 The feelings, whatever they were, that had 
 first led him to associate himself with Hilde- 
 brand, then revived, and all his involuntary 
 apprehensions subsided. Instead of looking 
 on him as a national enemy, he regarded him 
 only as one of a marked race, who, by their 
 daring and genius, stood out in relief from 
 the rest of the world, the lords and leaders of 
 all mankind. 
 
 Hildebrand, with that instinctive apprehen- 
 sion which belongs exclusively to refined 
 
332 HILDEBRAND. 
 
 minds, readily divined what was passing: in 
 the cavalier's bosom ; and though, out of 
 regard for their mutual safety, anxious to 
 proceed, did not offer to bring his meditation 
 to a close. Thus left to himself, the cavalier, 
 as if unmindful of their situation, lingered on 
 the shore for several minutes, and took the 
 final step of entering the boat at his own un- 
 biassed prompture. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 London : Henry Richards, Brydges-street, Covent-garden.