NUMBER X. What is this So wither'd, and so wild in its attire; That looks not like an inhabitant o' the earth, SHAKSPEARE. THOUGH no present intelligence could be obtained relative to the abode of Walleran, yet as it was most probable that where he was, there Adeline would be found, Henry determined, with the concurrence of his family, to spare no effort in detecting his residence. After a few hours rest, therefore, he armed himself completely, and bidding adieu to his disconsolate friends, to whom, assuming a cheerful tone, he promised the speedy restoration of Adeline, he mounted his favourite roan, and issued from the great gate, whilst the sun, now verging towards noon, smote full upon his plumed casque. Not willing, however, to alarm the neighbouring country, where his person and accoutrements would be known wherever he should stop for inquiry, and secrecy being likewise necessary toward the completion of his views, he carefully concealed his features beneath his visor, assumed unusual arms, took a different device, and no retinue whatever, resolved, should he find Walleran surrounded by his myrmidons, to hasten back to Ruydvellin, and collecting his faithful followers, return and attack him in full force, placing no confidence in his honour, should a single combat ensue, when thus supported by banditti. That no time might be lost in the pursuit, he dismissed two of his confidential servants on different routes, and under similar precautions. These measures being taken, Henry carried his researches through the neighbouring seats, and made every inquiry that could lead to detection, but in vain; striking further into the country, therefore, he unexpectedly came into very wild scenery, and it was with difficulty he could procure the most homely provision in a tract so thinly inhabited, and where a shep herd's hut, or the cottage of a peasant, proved his only places of rest. Some weeks had thus passed, when toward the sunset of a very fine day, after having traversed a lone and unfrequented part, he arrived at the edge of a thick and dark forest; the sky became suddenly overcast, and it began to rain; the thunder rolled at a distance, and sheets of livid lightning flashed across the heath. Overcome with fatigue and hunger, he rode impatiently along the border of the forest, in hopes of discovering an entrance, but none was to be found. At length, just as he was about to dismount with an intention of breaking the fence, he discerned, as he thought, something moving upon the heath, and, upon advancing towards it, it proved to be an old woman gathering peat, and who, overtaken by the storm, was hurrying home as fast as her infirm limbs could carry her. The sight of a human creature filled the heart of Fitzowen with joy, and, hastily riding up, he inquired how far he had deviated from the right road, and where he could procure a night's lodging. The old woman now slowly lifting up her palsied head, discovered a set of features which could scarcely be called human, her eyes were red, piercing and distorted, and rolling horribly, glanced upon every object but the person by whom she was addressed, and, at intervals, they emitted a fiery disagreeable light; her hair, of a dirty gray, hung matted in large masses upon her shoulders, and a few thin portions rushed abrupt and horizontally from the upper part of her forehead, which was much wrinkled, and of a parchment hue; her cheeks were hollow, withered, and red with a quantity of acrid rheum; her nose was large, prominent, and sharp; her lips thin, skinny, and livid; her few teeth black; and her chin long and peaked, with a number of bushy hairs depending from its extremity; her nails also were, acute, crooked, and bent over her fingers; and her garments, ragged and fluttering in the wind, displayed every possible variety of colour. Henry was a little daunted: but, the old woman having mentioned a dwelling at some distance, and offering to lead the way, the pleasure received from this piece of intelligence effaced the former impression, and, alighting from his horse, he laid hold of the bridle, and they slowly moved over the heath. The storm had now ceased, and the moon rising gave presage of a fine night, just as this singular conductor, taking a sudden turn, plunged into the wood by a path, narrow and almost choked up with a quantity of briar and thorn. The trees were thick, and, save a few glimpses of the moon, which, now and then, poured light on the uncouth features of his companion, all was dark and dismal; the heart of Fitzowen misgave him; neither spoke; and he pursued his guide merely by the noise she made in hurrying through the bushes, which was done with a celerity totally inconsistent with her former decrepitude. At length the path grew wider, and a faint blue light, which came from a building at some distance, glimmered before them; they now left the wood, and issued upon a rocky and uneven piece of ground, whilst the moon struggling through a cloud, cast a doubtful and uncertain light, and the old woman, with a leer which made the very hair of Fitzowen stand on end, told him that the dwelling was at hand. It was so ; for a gothic castle, placed on a considerable elevation, now came in view; it was a large massy structure, much decayed, and some parts of it in a totally ruinous condition; a portion, however, of the keep, or great tower, was still entire, as was also the entrance to the court or |