Necessity is a stern but an
excellent schoolmistress, and she that has lost her sight must collect
her information from other sources."

"Well, you hear a man's step, I grant it," said Lucy; "but why, Alice,
may it not be my father's?"

"The pace of age, my love, is timid and cautious: the foot takes leave
of the earth slowly, and is planted down upon it with hesitation; it
is the hasty and determined step of youth that I now hear, and--could I
give credit to so strange a thought--I should say is was the step of a
Ravenswood."

"This is indeed," said Ravenswood, "an acuteness of organ which I could
not have credited had I not witnessed it. I am indeed the Master of
Ravenswood, Alice,--the son of your old master."

"You!" said the old woman, with almost a scream of surprise--"you the
Master of Ravenswood--here--in this place, and thus accompanied! I
cannot believe it. Let me pass my old hand over your face, that my touch
may bear witness to my ears."

The Master sate down beside her on the earthen bank, and permitted her
to touch his features with her trembling hand.

"It is indeed!" she said--"it is the features as well as the voice of
Ravenswood--the high lines of pride, as well as the bold and haughty
tone. But what do you here, Master of Ravenswood?--what do you in your
enemy's domain, and in company with his child?" As Old Alice spoke, her
face kindled, as probably that of an ancient feudal vassal might have
done in whose presence his youthful liege-lord had showed some symptom
of degenerating from the spirit of his ancestors.

"The Master of Ravenswood," said Lucy, who liked not the tone of this
expostulation, and was desirous to abridge it, "is upon a visit to my
father."

"Indeed!" said the old blind woman, in an accent of surprise.

"I knew," continued Lucy, "I should do him a pleasure by conducting him
to your cottage."

"Where, to say the truth, Alice," said Ravenswood, "I expected a more
cordial reception."

"It is most wonderful!" said the old woman, muttering to herself; "but
the ways of Heaven are not like our ways, and its judgments are brought
about by means far beyond our fathoming. Hearken, young man," she said;
"your fathers were implacable, but they were honourable, foes; they
sought not to ruin their enemies under the mask of hospitality. What
have you to do with Lucy Ashton? why should your steps move in the same
footpath with hers? why should your voice sound in the same chord and
t