an, John Ingram;
but all he could learn was, that Edward had sent a remonstrance to the
King of Castile on the delay of the subsidy.

CHAPTER VII

As Eustace was returning, his attention was caught by repeated groans,
which proceeded from a wretched little hovel almost level with the
earth. "Hark!" said he to Ingram, a tall stout man-at-arms from the
Lynwood estate. "Didst thou not hear a groaning?"

"Some of the Castilians, Sir. To think that the brutes should be
content to live in holes not fit for swine!"

"But methought it was an English tongue. Listen, John!"

And in truth English ejaculations mingled with the moans: "To St.
Joseph of Glastonbury, a shrine of silver! Blessed Lady of Taunton, a
silver candlestick! Oh! St. Dunstan!"

Eustace doubted no longer; and stooping down and entering the hut, he
beheld, as well as the darkness would allow him, Leonard Ashton
himself, stretched on some mouldy rushes, and so much altered, that he
could scarcely have been recognized as the sturdy, ruddy youth who had
quitted the Lances of Lynwood but five weeks before.

"Eustace! Eustace!" he exclaimed, as the face of his late companion
appeared. "Can it be you? Have the saints sent you to my succour?"

"It is I, myself, Leonard," replied Eustace; "and I hope to aid you.
How is it--"

"Let me feel your hand, that I may be sure you are flesh and blood,"
cried Ashton, raising himself and grasping Eustace's hand between his
own, which burnt like fire; then, lowering his voice to a whisper of
horror, "She is a witch!"

"Who?" asked Eustace, making the sign of the cross.

Leonard pointed to a kind of partition which crossed the hut, beyond
which Eustace could perceive an old hag-like woman, bending over a
cauldron which was placed on the fire. Having made this effort, he
sank back, hiding his face with his cloak, and trembling in every limb.
A thrill of dismay passed over the Knight, and the giant, John Ingram,
stood shaking like an aspen, pale as death, and crossing himself
perpetually. "Oh, take me from this place, Eustace," repeated Leonard,
"or I am a dead man, both body and soul!"

"But how came you here, Leonard?"

"I fell sick some three days since, and--and, fearing infection, Sir
William Felton bade me be carried from his lodgings; the robbers, his
men-at-arms, stripped me of all I possessed, and brought me to this
dog-hole, to the care of this old hag. Oh, Eustace, I have heard her
mutter