a discovery,
and now the thing which she feared had come upon her. The extreme
violence of her brother, which went so far as to menace her personal
safety, had united with the previous conflict of passions, to produce a
rapture of fear, which probably left her no other free agency, than that
which she derived from the blind instinct which urges flight, as the
readiest resource in danger.

We have no means of exactly tracing the course of this unhappy young
woman. It is probable she fled from Shaws-Castle, on hearing the arrival
of Mr. Touchwood's carriage, which she might mistake for that of Lord
Etherington; and thus, while Mowbray was looking forward to the happier
prospects which the traveller's narrative seemed to open, his sister
was contending with rain and darkness, amidst the difficulties and
dangers of the mountain path which we have described. These were so
great, that a young woman more delicately brought up, must either have
lain down exhausted, or have been compelled to turn her steps back to
the residence she had abandoned. But the solitary wanderings of Clara
had inured her to fatigue and to night-walks; and the deeper causes of
terror which urged her to flight, rendered her insensible to the perils
of her way. She had passed the bower, as was evident from her glove
remaining there, and had crossed the foot-bridge; although it was almost
wonderful, that, in so dark a night, she should have followed with such
accuracy a track, where the missing a single turn by a cubit's length,
might have precipitated her into eternity.

It is probable, that Clara's spirits and strength began in some degree
to fail her, after she had proceeded a little way on the road to the
Aultoun; for she had stopped at the solitary cottage inhabited by the
old female pauper, who had been for a time the hostess of the penitent
and dying Hannah Irwin. Here, as the inmate of the cottage acknowledged,
she had made some knocking, and she owned she had heard her moan
bitterly, as she entreated for admission. The old hag was one of those
whose hearts adversity turns to very stone, and obstinately kept her
door shut, impelled more probably by general hatred to the human race,
than by the superstitious fears which seized her; although she
perversely argued that she was startled at the supernatural melody and
sweetness of tone, with which the benighted wanderer made her
supplication. She admitted, that when she heard the poor petitioner
turn