ismal
howling was rehearsed by the echoes of the wilderness.

But deserted and lonely as were those dark recesses, more lonely and
deserted still was the heart of Theodora. She was a wretched outcast, a
solitary being in the world, and she lived on memory alone. Alas! it is
in the hour of distress and perilous adventure, that the voice of memory
holds more busy converse with the mind. She then tells a long and varied
tale, in which the fortunate portion of our past existence is powerfully
heightened, whilst the gloomy part is rendered lighter by the weight of
actual endurance. In this hour of terror, the remembrance of the happy
home which she should never see again, and the tranquil pastimes of
innocence which she could never more enjoy, passed in rapid succession
before her mind. The first dawning of genuine love--the fervour of
adoration, all were fled. The image of Don Lope, rendered still more
endearing by his untimely loss, filled up the measure of Theodora's woe,
till her heart could no longer support the pressure of so much distress.
She sobbed aloud; and the tears which fell from her eyes in some measure
relieved her bursting heart. She looked around, and saw nothing but the
undisturbed continuance of wild solitudes, clothed in dark shadows; and
she heard nought but mournful sounds to add to the wretchedness of her
already deplorable lot. The ill-omened bird again shrieked, and the wind
howled fitfully; whilst the moon, issuing from behind a cloud, now threw
a cold comfortless light, which imparted a death-like hue to every
object around.

While thus overwhelmed with sensations of terror at her forlorn
situation, she perceived some object of dark appearance hanging upon a
tree almost across their path, and waving to and fro at the will of the
blast. A glimpse of moonlight now falling upon the place, discovered a
human figure: it was indeed the body of a murdered man. Theodora
shuddered at the sight: an icy chill crept over her, and she dreaded,
and yet was eager to learn what she, alas! too well anticipated.

"The sight appears to unnerve you, lady," coolly observed her conductor,
"and I wonder not, for it is a sorry sight for a tender female, and a
Christian withal. Yonder scarecrow was, a short time since, a Christian
knight, and is there placed as a warning to his fellow-countrymen how
they dare provoke the angry lion in his dominions. In each Moor will the
Christian encounter a lion;--nay, something even