THE CHILDREN OF RAVENDALE.

66

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE DUKE OF MANTUA."

"I'LL go no further. Old Hildebrand has some dirty matters on his hands, that he wants to thrust into our fingers. A bad business quits best at the beginning. If once we get into the middle, it were as well to go on, as come back; like Old Dobbs, when he swam half way through the mill-pond, and then, being faint-hearted, swam back again."

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

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

"What! thy beast riding at anchor already? 'Tis well, I shall on to Ravendale Castle with all speed, if 'twere

only to inform one Hildebrand Wentworth of this sudden qualm. Likewise, I may peradventure remember to tell him of another little qualm, once upon a time thou wast taken with, at the sight of a score of his fat beeves: a little bit of choice roguery played off upon him by honest Anthony with the tender conscience. Look to it, comrade, he shall know of this, before thou canst convey thy cowardly carcase out of his clutches. An it be thou goest forward, mum! Backward-Hah! have I caught thee, my pretty bird?"

At the conclusion of this speech, with the malice of a fiend urging on his hesitating victim to the commission of some loathed act of folly or of crime, the speaker lashed his unwilling companion's beast into a furious gallop, and they were soon threading the intricate mazes across part of that vast chain of moorlands and forests, which, long ago, skirted the northern boundaries between York and Lancaster.

The horsemen were evidently of that dubious class, named 66 Knights of the Post,"-highwaymen, deerstealers, or cattle-harriers; all and every of which occupation, they occasionally followed.

The present owner of Ravendale Castle, whom it appears they had beforetime befriended in virtue of these several callings, had sent for them in haste, having occasion to employ them, it might seem, in some business relative to their profession.

For some hours they travelled with considerable speed. Day was just brightening in the east, as, emerging from

a more than usual intricacy of path, they pushed through a thick and overhanging archway of boughs. Suddenly a green knoll presented itself, sloping gently toward a narrow rivulet. Beyond, a dark and partially fortified mansion stood before them. Here and there, a turret-shaped chamber, lifting its mural crown above the rest, rose clear and erect against the glowing sky, now rapidly displacing the grey hues of the morning. The narrow embrasures, sharp and beautifully distinct, but black as their own grim recesses, stood in solemn contrast with the light and flickering vapours from behind, breaking into all the gorgeous tints betokening a heavy and lurid atmosphere.

The two horsemen crossed a narrow bridge, and the clattering of their hoofs was soon heard in the court-yard of Ravendale Castle. They had evidently been for some time expected.

"So, masters, if it had not pleased your betters to have built so many hostels and roosting places on the road, might have been snug in my bed-linen four hours ago, I'm a thinking."

The personage who thus accosted them, was dressed in a plain leathern cap and doublet, with a pair of stout hose that would not have disgraced a Dutch Vrow of the first magnitude. His short and frizzled beard was curiously twirled and pointed, we may suppose after the choicest fashion of those regions. His appearance bespoke him as some confidential menial belonging to the establishment. His whole demeanour had in it an air of impertinent authority. His little sharp eyes twinkled in all the plenitude

of power, and peered in the faces of the travellers as they alighted to render him an unwilling salutation.

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

"Go to,-an the beasts be cared for; thine own muzzle may take its chance of a swill. Darby, see to the horses. Now for business. Master has been waiting for you these three hours: make what excuse you may. Heigh ho! my old skull will have the worse on't soon with these upsittings."-Taking a lamp from its niche, he commanded the strangers to follow. A wide staircase led to the gallery, from which a number of low doors communicated with the sleeping apartments. Entering a narrow passage from an obscure corner, they ascended a winding stair. The sharp and capacious spurs of the intruders struck shrilly on the stone, mingled with the grumblings of Master Jeffery Hardpiece. A continual muttering was kept up from the latter, by way of running accompaniment to the directions which ever and anon he found it needful to issue.

"There-an ass, a very ass-keep thy face from the wall, I tell thee, and lift up thy great leathern hoofs." Another series of inaudible murmurings, mingled with confused and rambling sentences.

This stair is like old Giles' horn- it's long a winding. Now thy spurs, is it? Beshrew me, knave, but thou