resently."

"Why, this is the road to Ingleton, if I mistake not; I hear the roar of
the Greta."

"Right--we shall be on our road to the old castle shortly."

They travelled on more silently than before, until the brawling of the
torrent they had heard for some time increased with rapid intensity. The
road now widening, Anthony spurred on his beast by the side of his
companion, who slackened his pace to afford an opportunity for further
parley.

"Whither are we bound?" inquired Anthony.

"Where the children will be well cared for."

A dubious expression of countenance, which Anthony but too well
understood, accompanied these words; and villain was expressed by
indications too unequivocal to be easily mistaken through every change
and inflection of his visage. Anthony, though not of the most unsullied
reputation, and probably habituated to crimes at which humanity might
shudder, pressed the little victim closer to his breast. The prattle of
the babe had won his heart: and the morning scene with Alice had
softened his spirit so that he could have wept when he thought of the
remorseless nature of his comrade, to whose care the children were
entrusted.

The roar of the torrent grew louder. Suddenly they entered upon a sort
of irregular amphitheatre--woods rising above each other to the very
summit of the hills by which they were surrounded. A swollen waterfall
was visible, below which a bare and flattened trunk, whose boughs had
apparently been but just lopped, was thrown across the torrent. A ruined
keep or donjon was seen above a line of dark firs, crowning the summit
of a steep crag that rose abruptly from the river.

"This is our halfway-house," said Michael, pointing to the grim
fortress: "the children are tired, and have need of refreshment. Tarry
here with the horses whilst I carry them over the bridge."

"We have refreshments in the wallet--what need we to loiter yonder?"
replied Anthony, eyeing the other with an expression of distrust.

"The children want rest," said Michael, "and we shall there find
shelter from the heat."

"If rest be needful," was the reply, "surely this dry sward and these
overhanging leaves will afford both rest and shelter."

"The children are in my keeping," said Michael, fiercely, "and I am not
to account with thee for my proceedings. Alight, and give me the child."

"I will not!--Michael, I have watched thee, and I know that thou art a
villain. Ay, draw, I have weapons too,