I do too ill in this,

And must not think but that a parent’s plaint

Will move the heavens to pour forth misery

Upon the head of disobediency.

Yet reason tells us, parents are o’erseen,

When with too strict a rein they do hold in

Their child’s affection, and control that love,

Which the high powers divine inspire them with.

The Hog hath lost his Pearl.

THE feast of Ravenswood Castle was as remarkable for its profusion as that of Wolf’s Crag had been for its ill-veiled penury. The Lord Keeper might feel internal pride at the contrast, but he had too much tact to suffer it to appear. On the contrary, he seemed to remember with pleasure what he called Mr. Balderstone’s bachelor’s meal, and to be rather disgusted than pleaseed with the display upon his own groaning board.

“We do these things,” he said, “because others do them; but I was bred a plain man at my father’s frugal table, and I should like well would my wife and family permit me to return to my sowens and my poor-man-of-mutton.”

This was a little overstretched. The Master only answered, “That different ranks — I mean,” said he, correcting himself, “different degrees of wealth require a different style of housekeeping.”

This dry remark put a stop to further conversation on the subject, nor is it necessary to record that which was substituted in its place. The evening was spent with freedom, and even cordiality; and Henry had so far overcome his first apprehensions, that he had settled a party for coursing a stag with the representative and living resemblance of grim Sir Malise of Ravenswood, called the Revenger. The next morning was the appointed time. It rose upon active sportsmen and successful sport. The banquet came in course; and a pressing invitation to tarry yet another day was given and accepted. This Ravenswood had resolved should be the last of his stay; but he recollected he had not yet visited the ancient and devoted servant of his house, Old Alice, and it was but kind to dedicate one morning to the gratification of so ancient an adherent.

To visit Alice, therefore, a day was devoted, and Lucy was the Master’s guide upon the way. Henry, it is true, accompanied them, and took from their walk the air of a tete-a-tete, while, in reality, it was little else, considering the variety of circumstances which occurred to prevent the boy from giving the least attention to what passed between his companions. Now a rook settled on a branch within shot; anon a hare crossed their path, and Henry and his greyhound went astray in pursuit of it; then he had to hold a long conversation with the forester, which detained him a while behind his companions; and again he went to examine the earth of a badger, which carried him on a good way before them.

The conversation betwixt the Master and his sister, meanwhile, took an interesting, and almost a confidential, turn. She could not help mentioning her sense of the pain he must feel in visiting scenes so well known to him, bearing now an aspect so different; and so gently was her sympathy expressed, that Ravenswood felt it for a moment as a full requital of all his misfortunes. Some such sentiment escaped him, which Lucy heard with more of confusion than displeasure; and she may be forgiven the imprudence of listening to such language, considering that the situation in which she was placed by her father seemed to authorise Ravenswood to use it. Yet she made an effort to turn the conversation, and she succeeded; for the Master also had advanced farther than he intended, and his conscience had instantly checked him when he found himself on the verge of speaking of love to the daughter of Sir William Ashton.

They now approached the hut of Old Alice, which had of late been rendered more comfortable, and presented an appearance less picturesque, perhaps, but far neater than before. The old woman was on her accustomed seat beneath the weeping birch, basking, with the listless enjoyment of age and infirmity, in the beams of the autumn sun. At the arrival of her visitors she turned her head towards them. “I hear your step, Miss Ashton,” she said, “but the gentleman who attends you is not my lord, your father.”

“And why should you think so, Alice?” said Lucy; “or how is it possible for you to judge so accurately by the sound of a step, on this firm earth, and in the open air?”

“My hearing, my child, has been sharpened by my blindness, and I can now draw conclusions from the slightest sounds, which formerly reached my ears as unheeded as they now approach yours. Necessity is a stern but an excellent schoolmistress, and she that has lost her sight must collect her information from other sources.”

“Well, you hear a man’s step, I grant it,” said Lucy; “but why, Alice, may it not be my father’s?”

“The pace of age, my love, is timid and cautious: the foot takes leave of the earth slowly, and is planted down upon it with hesitation; it is the hasty and determined step of youth that I now hear, and — could I give credit to so strange a thought — I should say is was the step of a Ravenswood.”

“This is indeed,” said Ravenswood, “an acuteness of organ which I could not have credited had I not witnessed it. I am indeed the Master of Ravenswood, Alice,— the son of your old master.”

“You!” said the old woman, with almost a scream of surprise —“you the Master of Ravenswood — here — in this place, and thus accompanied! I cannot believe it. Let me pass my old hand over your face, that my touch may bear witness to my ears.”

The Master sate down beside her on the earthen bank, and permitted her to touch his features with her trembling hand.

“It is indeed!” she said —“it is the features as well as the voice of Ravenswood — the high lines of pride, as well as the bold and haughty tone. But what do you here, Master of Ravenswood?— what do you in your enemy’s domain, and in company with his child?” As Old Alice spoke, her face kindled, as probably that of an ancient feudal vassal might have done in whose presence his youthful liege-lord had showed some symptom of degenerating from the spirit of his ancestors.

“The Master of Ravenswood,” said Lucy, who liked not the tone of this expostulation, and was desirous to abridge it, “is upon a visit to my father.”

“Indeed!” said the old blind woman, in an accent of surprise.

“I knew,” continued Lucy, “I should do him a pleasure by conducting him to your cottage.”

“Where, to say the truth, Alice,” said Ravenswood, “I expected a more cordial reception.”

“It is most wonderful!” said the old woman, muttering to herself; “but the ways of Heaven are not like our ways, and its judgments are brought about by means far beyond our fathoming. Hearken, young man,” she said; “your fathers were implacable, but they were honourable, foes; they sought not to ruin their enemies under the mask of hospitality. What have you to do with Lucy Ashton? why should your steps move in the same footpath with hers? why should your voice sound in the same chord and time with those of Sir William Ashton’s daughter? Young man, he who aims at revenge by dishonourable means ——”

“Be silent, woman!” said Ravenswood, sternly; “it is the devil that prompts your voice? Know that this young lady has not on earth a friend who would venture farther to save her from injury or from insult.”

“And is it even so?” said the old woman, in an altered but melancholy tone, “then God help you both!”

“Amen! Alice,” said Lucy, who had not comprehended the import of what the blind woman had hinted, “and send you your senses, Alice, and your good humour. If you hold this mysterious language, instead of welcoming your friends, they will think of you as other people do.”

“And how do other people think?” said Ravenswood, for he also began to believe the old woman spoke with incoherence.

“They think,” said Henry Ashton, who came up at that moment, and whispered into Ravenswood’s ear, “that............