t is a fine day, and
a row on the lake will do you good."

Wyat acquiesced, and followed Fenwolf, who returned along the passage.
It grew narrower at the sides and lower in the roof as they advanced,
until at last they were compelled to move forward on their hands and
knees. For some space the passage, or rather hole (for it was nothing
more) ran on a level. A steep and tortuous ascent then commenced, which
brought them to an outlet concealed by a large stone.

Pushing it aside, Fenwolf crept forth, and immediately afterwards Wyat
emerged into a grove, through which, on one side, the gleaming waters
of the lake were discernible. The keeper's first business was to replace
the stone, which was so screened by brambles and bushes that it could
not, unless careful search were made, be detected.

Making his way through the trees to the side of the lake, Fenwolf
marched along the greensward in the direction of Tristram Lyndwood's
cottage. Wyat mechanically followed him; but he was so pre-occupied that
he scarcely heeded the fair Mabel, nor was it till after his embarkation
in the skiff with the keeper, when she came forth to look at them, that
he was at all struck with her beauty. He then inquired her name from
Fenwolf.

"She is called Mabel Lyndwood, and is an old forester's granddaughter,"
replied the other somewhat gruffly.

"And do you seek her love?" asked Wyat.

"Ay, and wherefore not?" asked Fenwolf, with a look of displeasure.

"Nay, I know not, friend," rejoined Wyat. "She is a comely damsel."

"What!--comelier than the Lady Anne?" demanded Fenwolf spitefully.

"I said not so," replied Wyat; "but she is very fair, and looks
true-hearted."

Fenwolf glanced at him from under his brows; and plunging his oars into
the water, soon carried him out of sight of the maiden.

It was high noon, and the day was one of resplendent loveliness. The
lake sparkled in the sunshine, and as they shot past its tiny bays and
woody headlands, new beauties were every moment revealed to them. But
while the scene softened Wyat's feelings, it filled him with intolerable
remorse, and so poignant did his emotions become, that he pressed his
hands upon his eyes to shut out the lovely prospect. When he looked
up again the scene was changed. The skiff had entered a narrow creek,
arched over by huge trees, and looking as dark and gloomy as the rest
of the lake was fair and smiling. It was closed in by a high overhanging
bank, crested by