almoſt palpable fog, ſtrange and unuſual forms ſeemed to ſwim before their ſight. No ſound was heard; all was ſtill for a few ſeconds, when a kind of ruſtling noiſe ſmote on their ears, and the dun vapour which ſurrounded them was violently agitated–again all was ſtill, which was broke by a voice at a diſtance, harſh and grating, crying,
“Whither go you, ſiſters, thus in gloom?”–
“With Scotland’s king, to learn his doom,”
was the anſwer given by a loud and diſſonant voice near them.
“And Scotland’s king, and England’s heir,
Shall equal be our choiceſt care;”
ſcreamed another voice ſtill more diſcordant.
Amazed and terrified, Edmund exclaimed, “Who are you, who, thus wrapt in gloomy darkneſs, pierce with loud and ſtrange outcries our wonder-ſtruck ears?”
A peal of laughter ſhook the miſty air; the horſes trembled in every joint; and to the flowing mane of the king’s beautiful ſteed a lambent kind of fire affixed itſelf, who, no longer obeying the curbing rein, flew forward with amazing ſpeed, followed by Edmund with equal velocity. In vain did they endeavour to ſtop their rapid career–they ſeemed impelled by ſome powerful impulſe, and entered the wood, of which traditionary tales had told wonders.
Down the broad avenue, up which they were borne, ſtreamed a blaze of light that illumined the night, and ſhowed them a building of an odd and antique form; but ſhowed it only momentarily; for as they reached the gate it vaniſhed, and all was total darkneſs, whilſt, exhauſted by fatigue, the ſwift courſers of the king and Edmund fell beneath them.
The gate ſtood open; and whilſt diſengaging themſelves from their dying horſes, they ſpied a pale light proceeding from a door at the extreme end of a wide hall, whoſe dark ſide received not the fainteſt ray.
“Too ſure are we,” ſaid James, “in the fatal wood of which I ſpoke; nor ſhall we eſcape from its dreaded incloſure.”
