arms round her neck–hid his head in her boſom–and mingled his tears with hers.
Fitzalan having at length loſt ſight of the dear objects that retarded his progreſs, purſued his journey with all poſſible ſwiftneſs: in a few minutes he entered upon the heath, acroſs which lay the road he was neceſſitated to take. Not a ſingle houſe was to be ſeen before him–not an individual traveller appeared, whoſe preſence and converſation might enliven the tedious way he had to go. It was now night, and the moon had not yet riſen. The chilling wind, that howling mournfully through the trees ſcattered their ſhrivelled yellow foliage upon the ground; the gloomy, ſpetre-like appearance of every ſurrounding object; the late parting from his wife and child; and the painful nature of the duty he was then haſtening to perform, all contributed to fill the boſom of Fitzalan with the moſt melancholy reflections. “It is now ſixteen years ago,” ſaid he to himſelf, with a ſigh, “ſince my brave and tender father disappeared on this heath; ſlain, moſt probably, by the ſword of ſome vile aſſaſſin! Would to God that I could avenge his death! but, alas, I know not his murderer! The venerable Sir Edmund too, the friend, the guardian of my youth; he, whoſe liberality preſerved my independance, when the rapacious Fitzurban, wreſted from me my paternal domains–he will, perhaps, ere I can arrive at his caſtle, be no more! I ſhall not have the ſad ſatisfaction of cloſing thoſe eyes that were ever turned upon me with the tendered affection. I ſhall not receive the bleſſing of him who delighted to contribute to my happineſs: but yet, all is not loſt. My faithful lovely Edith, my little Edwin, ſtill remain; and, while I poſſes them, I cannot be miſerable.”
In this manner Fitzalan gave vent to his meditations. He had now travelled over one-third of the heath, when he imagined that he heard, at a great diſtance, as the gale wafted the found, the trampling of horſes feet: he ſtopped for a moment, in hopes that ſome one might be journeying the ſame way with himſelf: he liſtened–but, not again hearing it, he ſuppoſed that he had
