--"it is
even so, my little dandieprat. But who the devil could teach it thee?"

"Do not thou care about that," said Flibbertigibbet--"but--" he looked
at Wayland and the lady, and then sunk what he had to say in a
whisper, which needed not be a loud one, as the giant held him for his
convenience close to his ear. The porter then gave Dickie a warm caress,
and set him on the ground with the same care which a careful housewife
uses in replacing a cracked china cup upon her mantelpiece, calling out
at the same time to Wayland and the lady, "In with you--in with you! and
take heed how you come too late another day when I chance to be porter."

"Ay, ay, in with you," added Flibbertigibbet; "I must stay a short space
with mine honest Philistine, my Goliath of Gath here; but I will be with
you anon, and at the bottom of all your secrets, were they as deep and
dark as the Castle dungeon."

"I do believe thou wouldst," said Wayland; "but I trust the secret will
be soon out of my keeping, and then I shall care the less whether thou
or any one knows it."

They now crossed the entrance tower, which obtained the name of the
Gallery-tower, from the following circumstance: The whole bridge,
extending from the entrance to another tower on the opposite side of
the lake, called Mortimer's Tower, was so disposed as to make a spacious
tilt-yard, about one hundred and thirty yards in length, and ten in
breadth, strewed with the finest sand, and defended on either side by
strong and high palisades. The broad and fair gallery, destined for the
ladies who were to witness the feats of chivalry presented on this area,
was erected on the northern side of the outer tower, to which it gave
name. Our travellers passed slowly along the bridge or tilt-yard, and
arrived at Mortimer's Tower, at its farthest extremity, through which
the approach led into the outer or base-court of the Castle. Mortimer's
Tower bore on its front the scutcheon of the Earl of March, whose daring
ambition overthrew the throne of Edward II., and aspired to share his
power with the "She-wolf of France," to whom the unhappy monarch was
wedded. The gate, which opened under this ominous memorial, was guarded
by many warders in rich liveries; but they offered no opposition to the
entrance of the Countess and her guide, who, having passed by license of
the principal porter at the Gallery-tower, were not, it may be supposed,
liable to interruption from his deputies. They entered