ents were torn, and
they, as well as my hands, were stained with the blood of the man I had
wounded; one hand grasped the dead birds--my hard-earned prey, the other
held the knife; my hair was matted; my face besmeared with the same guilty
signs that bore witness against me on the dripping instrument I clenched;
my whole appearance was haggard and squalid. Tall and muscular as I was in
form, I must have looked like, what indeed I was, the merest ruffian that
ever trod the earth.

The name of the Earl startled me, and caused all the indignant blood that
warmed my heart to rush into my cheeks; I had never seen him before; I
figured to myself a haughty, assuming youth, who would take me to task, if
he deigned to speak to me, with all the arrogance of superiority. My reply
was ready; a reproach I deemed calculated to sting his very heart. He came
up the while; and his appearance blew aside, with gentle western breath, my
cloudy wrath: a tall, slim, fair boy, with a physiognomy expressive of the
excess of sensibility and refinement stood before me; the morning sunbeams
tinged with gold his silken hair, and spread light and glory over his
beaming countenance. "How is this?" he cried. The men eagerly began their
defence; he put them aside, saying, "Two of you at once on a mere lad--
for shame!" He came up to me: "Verney," he cried, "Lionel Verney, do we
meet thus for the first time? We were born to be friends to each other; and
though ill fortune has divided us, will you not acknowledge the hereditary
bond of friendship which I trust will hereafter unite us?"

As he spoke, his earnest eyes, fixed on me, seemed to read my very soul: my
heart, my savage revengeful heart, felt the influence of sweet benignity
sink upon it; while his thrilling voice, like sweetest melody, awoke a mute
echo within me, stirring to its depths the life-blood in my frame. I
desired to reply, to acknowledge his goodness, accept his proffered
friendship; but words, fitting words, were not afforded to the rough
mountaineer; I would have held out my hand, but its guilty stain restrained
me. Adrian took pity on my faltering mien: "Come with me," he said, "I have
much to say to you; come home with me--you know who I am?"

"Yes," I exclaimed, "I do believe that I now know you, and that you will
pardon my mistakes--my crime."

Adrian smiled gently; and after giving his orders to the gamekeepers, he
came up to me; putting his arm in mine, we walked together t