s, that she could not entirely
reconcile her generous mind to exposing Peveril to danger on her son's
behalf; and Julian betook himself to his solitary apartment.

His servant soon afterwards brought him wine and refreshments; to
which, notwithstanding the various matters he had to occupy his mind, he
contrived to do reasonable justice. But when this needful occupation
was finished, his thoughts began to stream in upon him like a troubled
tide--at once recalling the past, and anticipating the future. It was in
vain that he wrapped himself in his riding cloak, and, lying down on
his bed, endeavoured to compose himself to sleep. The uncertainty of
the prospect before him--the doubt how Bridgenorth might dispose of his
daughter during his absence--the fear that the Major himself might fall
into the power of the vindictive Countess, besides a numerous train of
vague and half-formed apprehensions, agitated his blood, and rendered
slumber impossible. Alternately to recline in the old oaken easy-chair,
and listen to the dashing of the waves under the windows, mingled,
as the sound was, with the scream of the sea-birds; or traverse the
apartment with long and slow steps, pausing occasionally to look out
on the sea, slumbering under the influence of a full moon, which tipped
each wave with silver--such were the only pastimes he could invent,
until midnight had passed for one hour; the next was wasted in anxious
expectation of the summons of departure.

At length it arrived--a tap at his door was followed by a low murmur,
which made him suspect that the Countess had again employed her mute
attendant as the most secure minister of her pleasure on this occasion.
He felt something like impropriety in this selection; and it was with
a feeling of impatience alien to the natural generosity of his temper,
that, when he opened the door, he beheld the dumb maiden standing before
him. The lamp which he held in his hand showed his features distinctly,
and probably made Fenella aware of the expression which animated them.
She cast her large dark eyes mournfully on the ground; and, without
again looking him in the face, made him a signal to follow her. He
delayed no longer than was necessary to secure his pistols in his belt,
wrap his cloak closer around him, and take his small portmanteau under
his arm. Thus accoutred, he followed her out of the Keep, or inhabited
part of the Castle, by a series of obscure passages leading to a postern
gate