which awaited him--Bertram
would have found himself tolerably happy, though tenanting that ancient
and aerial mansion which was known to mariners and to all on shore for
at least six counties round by the appellation of "the house of death."

FOOTNOTES TO "CHAPTER XVI.":

[Footnote 1: Coleridge, _from imperfect recollection_.]

[Footnote 2: Amongst which we are happy to say (on the authority of a
Welch friend) was the _first_ volume of Walladmor, a novel, 2 vols.
post 8vo.; the second being not then finished.]

CHAPTER XVII.

_Aumerle_. --Give me leave that I may turn the key,
That no man enter till my tale be done.
_Boling_. Have thy desire.
_York_ (_without_). My liege, beware: look to thyself:
Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
_Aum._ Stay thy revengeful hand;
Thou hast no cause to fear.--_Richard II._ Act. V.

Meantime Miss Walladmor exerted herself as earnestly for the secret
liberation of the prisoner as due regard to concealment would allow.
Her first application was made to Sir Charles Davenant: much would
depend, as she was well aware, on the dispositions of that officer
towards Captain Nicholas; and in the present case circumstances well
known to both forbade her relying with too much hope upon the natural
generosity of his disposition. Something however must be risked; and
she wrote a note to him requesting that he would meet her in the
library.

Sir Charles probably anticipated the subject of Miss Walladmor's
communication: for, though he hastened to know her commands, the
expression of his countenance showed none of that alacrity which might
naturally have been looked for in a military man not much beyond thirty
on receiving a summons to a private interview with the beautiful
heiress of Walladmor.

On entering the room he bowed, but without his usual freedom of manner;
and something like an air of chagrin was visible, as he begged to know
upon what subject he had been fortunate enough to be honored with Miss
Walladmor's commands. He spoke with extreme gravity; and Miss Walladmor
looked up to him in vain for any signs of encouragement. She trembled:
but not, as it seemed, from any feminine embarrassments: grief and
anxiety had quelled all lighter agitations; and she trembled only with
the anguish of suspense.

"Sir Charles," she said at length, "there was a time when yo