eeply set in an embrasure gave access to this place, and the
moment it was opened the sound of a harp became audible, and the
brothers paused in the deep shadow to observe what was going on in the
hall before they advanced further.

A scene that would be strange and picturesque to our eyes, but was in
the main familiar to theirs, greeted them as they stood thus. The castle
hall was a huge place, large enough to contain a muster of armed men. A
great stone staircase wound upwards from it to a gallery above. There
was little furniture to be seen, and that was of a rude kind, though not
lacking in a certain massiveness and richness in the matter of carving,
which gave something baronial to the air of the place. The walls were
adorned with trophies of all sorts, some composed of arms, others of the
spoil of fell and forest. The skins of many savage beasts lay upon the
cold stone flooring of the place, imparting warmth and harmony by the
rich tints of the furs. Light was admitted through a row of narrow
windows both above and below; but the vast place would have been dim and
dark at this hour had it not been that the huge double doors with their
rude massive bolts stood wide open to the summer air, and the last beams
of the westering sun came shining in, lying level and warm upon the
group at the upper end of the hall, which had gathered around the
white-haired, white-bearded bard, who, with head thrown backwards, and
eyes alight with strange passions and feelings, was singing in a deep
and musical voice to the sound of his instrument.

Old Wenwynwyn was a study in himself; his flowing hair, his fiery eyes,
his picturesque garb and free, untrammelled gestures giving him a weird
individuality of his own. But it was not upon him that the eyes of the
brothers dwelt, nor even upon the soldier-like figure of their stalwart
father leaning against the wall with folded arms, and eyes shining with
the patriotic fervour of his race. The attention of the lads was
enchained by another and more sumptuous figure --that of a fine-looking
man, approaching to middle life, who was seated at a little distance
from the minstrel, and was smiling with pleasure and appreciation at the
wild sweetness of the stream of melody poured forth.

One glance at the dress of the stranger would have been enough to tell
the brothers his nationality. His under tunic, which reached almost to
the feet, was of the finest cloth, and was embroidered along the lower