this sequestered avenue, accompanied
by a large headless mastiff, which, when he was alive, was a particular
favourite of the ex-brewer. To have expected any protection from her
escort, in the condition to which superstitious fear had reduced him,
would have been truly a hopeless trust; and Lady Peveril, who was not
apprehensive of any danger, thought there would be great cruelty in
dragging the cowardly boy into a scene which he regarded with so much
apprehension. She gave him, therefore, a silver piece, and permitted him
to return. The latter boon seemed even more acceptable than the first;
for ere she could return the purse into her pocket, she heard the wooden
clogs of her bold convoy in full retreat, by the way from whence they
came.

Smiling within herself at the fear she esteemed so ludicrous, Lady
Peveril ascended the stile, and was soon hidden from the broad light of
the moonbeams, by the numerous and entangled boughs of the huge elms,
which, meeting from either side, totally overarched the old avenue. The
scene was calculated to excite solemn thoughts; and the distant
glimmer of a light from one of the numerous casements in the front of
Moultrassie Hall, which lay at some distance, was calculated to make
them even melancholy. She thought of the fate of that family--of the
deceased Mrs. Bridgenorth, with whom she had often walked in this very
avenue, and who, though a woman of no high parts or accomplishments, had
always testified the deepest respect, and the most earnest gratitude,
for such notice as she had shown to her. She thought of her blighted
hopes--her premature death--the despair of her self-banished
husband--the uncertain fate of their orphan child, for whom she felt,
even at this distance of time, some touch of a mother's affection.

Upon such sad subjects her thoughts were turned, when, just as she
attained the middle of the avenue, the imperfect and checkered light
which found its way through the silvan archway, showed her something
which resembled the figure of a man. Lady Peveril paused a moment, but
instantly advanced;--her bosom, perhaps, gave one startled throb, as
a debt to the superstitious belief of the times, but she instantly
repelled the thought of supernatural appearances. From those that were
merely mortal, she had nothing to fear. A marauder on the game was the
worst character whom she was likely to encounter; and he would be
sure to hide himself from her observation. She advanced,