wild hold, they entered the courtyard in safety. But it was long
ere the efforts of Ravenswood, though loudly exerted by knocking at the
low-browed entrance, and repeated shouts to Caleb to open the gate and
admit them, received any answer.

"The old man must be departed," he began to say, "or fallen into some
fit; for the noise I have made would have waked the seven sleepers."

At length a timid and hesitating voice replied: "Master--Master of
Ravenswood, is it you?"

"Yes, it is I, Caleb; open the door quickly."

"But it is you in very blood and body? For I would sooner face fifty
deevils as my master's ghaist, or even his wraith; wherefore, aroint ye,
if ye were ten times my master, unless ye come in bodily shape, lith and
limb." "It is I, you old fool," answered Ravenswood, "in bodily shape
and alive, save that I am half dead with cold."

The light at the upper window disappeared, and glancing from loophole to
loophole in slow succession, gave intimation that the bearer was in
the act of descending, with great deliberation, a winding staircase
occupying one of the turrets which graced the angles of the old tower.
The tardiness of his descent extracted some exclamations of impatience
from Ravenswood, and several oaths from his less patient and more
mecurial companion. Caleb again paused ere he unbolted the door, and
once more asked if they were men of mould that demanded entrance at this
time of night.

"Were I near you, you old fool," said Bucklaw, "I would give you
sufficient proofs of MY bodily condition."

"Open the gate, Caleb," said his master, in a more soothing tone, partly
from his regard to the ancient and faithful seneschal, partly perhaps
because he thought that angry words would be thrown away, so long as
Caleb had a stout iron-clenched oaken door betwixt his person and the
speakers.

At length Caleb, with a trembling hand, undid the bars, opened the
heavy door, and stood before them, exhibiting his thin grey hairs, bald
forehead, and sharp high features, illuminated by a quivering lamp which
he held in one hand, while he shaded and protected its flame with the
other. The timorous, courteous glance which he threw around him, the
effect of the partial light upon his white hair and illumined features,
might have made a good painting; but our travellers were too impatient
for security against the rising storm to permit them to indulge
themselves in studying the picturesque. "Is it you, my dear mas