h Lady Frances in the gardens of the Place; and though Sir
Robert urged indisposition as the cause, yet his pride was deeply
mortified. A weighty communication from France, where he had been a
resident for some months, as an _attache_ to the English embassy,
appeared to have increased the discontent of his already ruffled temper.
He retired early to his chamber, and his moody and disturbed countenance
looked angered and mysterious by the light of an untrimmed lamp, as he
inspected various documents and papers that lay scattered before him on
a table of carved oak, inlaid with silver. One letter, which he read and
re-read with much attention, seemed to excite him more than all the
rest: he turned it over and over--examined the seal--laid it down--took
it up--put it aside again--folded his arms over his chest, and, with his
eyes fixed on the ceiling, appeared for a time absorbed in the
remembrance of past events. Finally, he committed the letter to the
flames, and then paced up and down the room with unequal steps, his head
bent forward, and his arms folded, as before, over his bosom. He was
evidently ill at ease with himself, and there gleamed "a lurking devil
in his eye," that augured peril to some one, and bespoke a man who was
neither "infirm of purpose," nor slow in the execution of whatever
mischief was designed. He did not retire to his bed until the lamp gave
token that its oil was expended, when, flinging himself on the coverlet
without removing any portion of his dress, he sought rest.

Nor were Sir Willmott's slumbers of long duration; before the sun had
risen, he was up and a-foot. Having let himself down from his window and
out at the postern-gate, he took the path that led in the direction of
Gull's Nest Crag.

The night had been wild and stormy; the freshness and freedom of the air
now compensated for the turmoil that had passed; but the ocean's
wrathfulness was still unappeased, and Burrell listened to its roarings
while it lashed the beach with its receding waves, like a war-horse
pawing and foaming when the battle din has sunk into the silence that
succeeds the shout of victory, as if eager again to meet the shock of
death.

Suddenly he struck out of the usual track, across a portion of waste
land, the utmost verge of which skirted the toppling cliffs; and making
for himself a way through tangled fern, long grass, and prickly furze,
he strode on in a more direct line towards the dwelling of Robin Hays,