through the cell he–ſtarted, looked wildly round, and liſtened–but all was ſilent. In a few minutes the caſtle clock began to ſtrike the hour of twelve. Its heavy tone ſunk to the heart of Fitzalan. It was to him the voice of death. With a harm and hideous found the bolts flew back. “They come,” exclaimed Fitzalan; and ſprang from the ground, reſolved, though unarmed, to reſiſt to the laſt, and, if poſſible, not to die unrevenged. The door which he had ſo often tried in vain, flew open, and a pale light gleamed through the dungeon. The blood of Fitzalan ran cold in his veins, as his eyes met the form of a venerable old man, on whoſe face was the pallid hue of diſſolution. In his left breaſt, which was bare, appeared two deep and mortal wounds. The figure beckoned to Fitzalan, whoſe faculties were all abſorbed in awe and wonder; to follow which, recovering from his ſurpriſe, he obeyed. The fetters with which he was bound inſtantly fell from his limbs. He followed his guide, and entered the next cell, which was illumined by a faint radiance, whoſe ſource was not viſible. The door cloſed upon them, and the bars jarred together; his conductor advanced to near the centre of the place–then ſtopped; and turning round, pointed to Fitzalan a human ſkull laying on the ground, and by its ſide a dagger; from their condition, they appeared to have lain there many years. Fitzalan ſhuddered at the ſight; and involuntarily ſtooping, took up the dagger. His guide fixed his ſunken eyes on him with an expreſſion of the utmoſt ſatisfaction and tenderneſs, and extended his arm toward a door near them, which directly opened–then articulating with an awful voice, “vengeance on my murderer!” diſappeared, leaving the dungeon in total darkneſs.
Fitzalan pauſed for a moment; it ſeemed to him the deluſion of ſome delirious dream; he pauſed but for a moment–a thouſand blended ideas and recollections of the paſt and preſent ruſhed acroſs his brain, and he turned to execute the command he had received. As he paſſed out of this place, he heard the doors of his late
