bode of sterility and
sadness. Now, the narrow bay by the island was glittering with gallant
streamers. Ships of war, in all their pride and panoply, majestically
reposed upon its bosom. All was bustle and impatience. The
trumpet-note of war brayed fiercely from the battlements. Incessant
was the march of troops in various directions. Tents were pitched
before the castle. Guards were appointed; and this hitherto peaceful
and solitary spot resounded with the din of arms, and the hoarse clang
of preparation for the approaching strife.

Messengers were constantly passing to and from the mainland. The
insignia of royalty were ostentatiously displayed, and the captains
and leaders within the fortress fulfilled the duties of this mimic and
motley court in honour of their anticipated sovereign.

Under a steep cliff, washed by the sea at high water, but of no great
height, and above which the higher walls of the castle or keep might
be discovered, sat two fishermen, the owners, or rather occupiers, of
one of the cottages built under the very walls of the fortress, where
these peaceful inhabitants had placed their little nests, protected
and covered by the wing of their loftier but more exposed and
dangerous neighbour.

The place they had chosen for their conference was secluded from
general observation, and their low and heavy speech was concealed from
the prying sentinels above by the hoarse and impetuous voice of the
retiring waves. Not many paces distant was the inlet to a
subterraneous passage, supposed to lead under the deepest foundations
of the castle; but its termination was now a mystery, at any rate, to
the present occupiers and inhabitants of the place. Many strange and
horrible stories were told and believed, of its uses and destination
in times past. Being burdened with a bad name--"some uncleansed murder
stuck to it"--the place ran little risk of disturbance or intruders.
When the tides ran high this outlet was inaccessible, being partly
flooded by the sea. From neglect and disuse an accumulation of sand
and pebbles, washed by the violence of the waves into the cavity, was
deposited there, so that the entrance, which, according to tradition
was once wide and sufficiently lofty for a person to walk upright, was
now dwindled into a narrow and insignificant-looking hole, scarcely
big enough to admit an urchin.

"Thee hasna seen it thysel', then?" said one of the fishermen to his
companion.

"Nea; I waur it' ho