CHAPTER VII.

How many monstrous forms in sleep we see,
That neither were, nor are, nor e'er can be.
Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind,
Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind:
The nurse's legends are for truths received,
And the man dreams but what the boy believed.
DRYDEN.

The Tartar lighted at the gate,
But scarce upheld his fainting weight;
His swarthy visage spake distress,
But this might be from weariness;
He drew the token from his vest-

BYRON.

ELWERWOLF, or the Hag of the Heath, as she was designated by the peasantry, had, ever since the morning on which her cottage was fired by De Marchmont, found a shelter in the dwelling of the Saxon; where, without any control, she

was left to indulge in her wild rambles, and wilder reveries at will, as no one cared to question her, as to where she went, or from whence she came. And it was doubtless owing to chance that she had overheard Royston Gower, while indulging in one of her lonely rambles in the forest.

Beside a substantial oaken table, which was also set out with a substantial breakfast, sat Elwerwolf and Elfrida, waiting the return of Hereward before they commenced the morning meal. Although the fare bore but little resemblance to that which we are accustomed to see in the present day, still it seemed more suitable to the men and the age; when blows were better understood than bohea, and the cleaving of helmets was a more familiar word than either coffee or hyson. White wheaten bread and brown barley cakes were piled high in rude wicker baskets, which were made more for use than ornament, and would about as well become the boudoir of a modern lady, as those massy wicker hampers which are used, in our own time, for conveying potatoes. Venison and eel pasties were also there, on staring pewter platters; and brown vessels made of baked earth

were filled with yellow honey; nor was there any lack of milk, wearing the rich hue of the primroses and cowslips, on which the sleek kine bad fed. Eggs were also in readiness, and striped rashers of bacon, that but awaited the sound of the Saxon's footstep before they sent their welcome savour around the apartment; and a large rude jug, resembling a brown pickle-jar, bore on its top the whispering foam, as if it said, "Mistake me not; I am the humming brown ale of old England."

Elwerwolf sat on a low stool, the legs of which some hand had attempted to carve into the forgotten form of acorns, but had given two cups to each. Her long spare body was bending over the ruddy embers on the hearth, while her arms were folded across her bosom, and she swayed herself to and fro, with her eyes closed, like one who wished to send her thoughts far away from the scenes by which she was surrounded; or like some wild enthusiast in our own time, who, while praying, seems as if wriggling his body into that heaven, which he is endeavouring to take by storm. But Elwerwolf bawled not like the modern mad; her thin lips moved, but no one heard them utter a sound,—she seemed as if

struggling with her own spirit, or wrestling with thoughts that could not shape themselves into words. At length they found utterance, but were at first so wild and incoherent, that even Elfrida paid no attention.

"And with Edwin, too!" said she, speaking like one who unconsciously talketh in a dream. "But why should he depart with her? What portion hath he in the Norman? what hath the young of the wild-cat to do in the nest of the dove; or the fawn in the kennel of the hound? Alas! such as they are, so might their fathers have been. No! the wolf cannot be brought to pasture like the sheep, nor the hound taught to graze beside the hart; the gray goose knows not that its feathers furnish forth the shafts that slaughter its fellows. But the future is dark. I have loosened the prisoner, and he yet hugs his chain; have given him the sword, which he hath rivetted to the scabbard. I have but seen through a veil in the darkness of night. Night! that makes the bondsman forget he is a slave, only sharpens my remembrance; and the morning light bringeth to me no rest."

"Speak not in such a melancholy tone, good

Elwerwolf," said the maiden, as she superintended the toasting of sundry slices of the barley-cakes, which, when done, she immersed into goodly bowls of milk,—" speak not so mournfully; let us hope that there is sunshine beyond these threatening clouds."

"Who looks for sunshine in the gloominess of night?" continued the old sybil. "The horned owl hooted not for nothing in the shaggy darkness; the old dog, much wiser than us mortals, howled throughout the weary night; the kite made woful lamentation; and the wild-geese went with a noise of moaning through the silent sky. Even when the moon arose, her light was ghastly, and the stars looked luridly and afeard upon the earth; and many fell down with affright."

"Talk not so ominously, good mother," said Elfrida imploringly. "Believe me, I have slept but uneasily since the man was destroyed, who attacked my father in the forest; and last night I had such dreams as haunted me just before my mother died. Why lingers my father, when the sun is already upon the threshold? But, peradventure, he followeth the chase, for there