deep voice; and she felt a hand laid
lightly on her shoulder. She looked up in terror and confusion, but
it was no form or face to inspire alarm that met her eye. It was a
cavalier, holding by the rein a horse richly caparisoned; and though his
dress was plainer and less exaggerated than that usually worn by men
of rank, its materials were those which the sumptuary laws (constantly
broken, indeed, as such laws ever must be) confined to nobles. Though
his surcoat was but of cloth, and the colour dark and sober, it was
woven in foreign looms,--an unpatriotic luxury, above the degree of
knight,--and edged deep with the costliest sables. The hilt of the
dagger, suspended round his breast, was but of ivory, curiously wrought,
but the scabbard was sown with large pearls. For the rest, the stranger
was of ordinary stature, well knit and active rather than powerful, and
of that age (about thirty-five) which may be called the second prime
of man. His face was far less handsome than Marmaduke Nevile's, but
infinitely more expressive, both of intelligence and command,--the
features straight and sharp, the complexion clear and pale, and under
the bright gray eyes a dark shade spoke either of dissipation or of
thought.

"What ailest thou, maiden,--weepest thou some faithless lover? Tush!
love renews itself in youth, as flower succeeds flower in spring."

Sibyll made no reply; she rose and moved a few paces, then arrested her
steps, and looked around her. She had lost all clew to her way homeward,
and she saw with horror, in the distance, the hateful timbrel-girls,
followed by the rabble, and weaving their strange dances towards the
spot.

"Dost thou fear me, child? There is no cause," said the stranger,
following her. "Again I say, What ailest thou?" This time his voice was
that of command, and the poor girl involuntarily obeyed it. She related
her misfortunes, her persecution by the tymbesteres, her escape,--thanks
to the Nevile's courtesy,--her separation from her attendant, and her
uncertainty as to the way she should pursue.

The nobleman listened with interest: he was a man sated and wearied
by pleasure and the world, and the evident innocence of Sibyll was a
novelty to his experience, while the contrast between her language and
her dress moved his curiosity. "And," said he, "thy protector left thee,
his work half done; fie on his chivalry! But I, donzel, wear the spurs
of knighthood, and to succour the distressed is a duty