nt's reflection, "you must seek your
earliest and best friend--I mean my mother. She has now no castle in
which to receive you--she has but a miserable lodging, so near the jail
in which my father is confined, that it seems almost a cell of the same
prison. I have not seen her since my coming hither; but thus much have
I learned by inquiry. We will now go to her apartment; such as it is,
I know she will share it with one so innocent and so unprotected as you
are."

"Gracious Heaven!" said the poor girl, "am I then so totally deserted,
that I must throw myself on the mercy of her who, of all the world,
has most reason to spurn me from her?--Julian, can you advise me to
this?--Is there none else who will afford me a few hours' refuge, till I
can hear from my father?--No other protectress but her whose ruin has,
I fear, been accelerated by----Julian, I dare not appear before your
mother! she must hate me for my family, and despise me for my meanness.
To be a second time cast on her protection, when the first has been so
evil repaid--Julian, I dare not go with you."

"She has never ceased to love you, Alice," said her conductor, whose
steps she continued to attend, even while declaring her resolution not
to go with him, "she never felt anything but kindness towards you, nay,
towards your father; for though his dealings with us have been harsh,
she can allow much for the provocation which he has received. Believe
me, with her you will be safe as with a mother--perhaps it may be the
means of reconciling the divisions by which we have suffered so much."

"Might God grant it!" said Alice. "Yet how shall I face your mother? And
will she be able to protect me against these powerful men--against my
uncle Christian? Alas, that I must call him my worst enemy!"

"She has the ascendancy which honour hath over infamy, and virtue over
vice," said Julian; "and to no human power but your father's will she
resign you, if you consent to choose her for your protectress. Come,
then, with me, Alice; and----"

Julian was interrupted by some one, who, laying an unceremonious hold of
his cloak, pulled it with so much force as compelled him to stop and lay
his hand on his sword. He turned at the same time, and, when he turned,
beheld Fenella. The cheek of the mute glowed like fire; her eyes
sparkled, and her lips were forcibly drawn together, as if she had
difficulty to repress those wild screams which usually attended
her agonies of passion,