Next day I parted company with my timid companion, turning more westerly in the direction of my uncle’s seat.  I had already had a distant view of Osbaldistone Hall, when my horse, tired as he was, pricked up his ears at the notes of a pack of hounds in full cry.  The headmost hounds soon burst out of the coppice, followed by three or four riders with reckless haste, regardless of the broken and difficult nature of the ground.  “My cousins,” thought I, as they swept past me:  but a vision interrupted my reflections.  It was a young lady, the loveliness of whose very striking features was enhanced by the animation of the chase, whose horse made an irregular movement as she passed me, which served as an apology for me to ride close up to her, as if to her assistance.  There was no cause for alarm, for she guided her horse with the most admirable address and presence of mind.  One of the young men soon reappeared, waving the brush of the fox in triumph, and after a few words the lady rode back to me and inquired, as she could not persuade “this cultivated young gentleman” to do so, if I had heard anything of a friend of theirs, one Mr. Francis Osbaldistone.

I was too happy to acknowledge myself to be the party enquired after, and she then presented to me, “as his politeness seemed still to be slumbering,” my cousin, young Squire Thorncliff Osbaldistone, and “Die Vernon, who has also the honour to be your accomplished cousin’s poor kinswoman.”

After shaking hands with me, he left us to help couple up the hounds, and Miss Vernon rode with me to Osbaldistone Hall, giving me, on the way, a description of its inmates, of whom, she said, the only conversible beings beside herself were the old priest and Rashleigh—­Sir Hildebrand’s youngest son.

II.—­Rashleigh’s Villainy

Rashleigh Osbaldistone was a striking contrast to his young brothers, all tall, stout, and comely, without pretence to accomplishment except their dexterity in field sports.  He welcomed me with the air of a man of the world, and though his appearance was far from prepossessing, he was possessed of a voice the most soft, mellow, and rich I ever heard.  He had been intended for a priest, but when my father’s desire to have one of Sir Hildebrand’s sons in his counting-house was known, he had been selected, as, indeed, the only one who could be considered at all suitable.

The day after my arrival, Miss Vernon, as we were following the hounds, showed me in the distance the hills of Scotland, and told me I could be there in safety in two hours.  To my dismay, she explained that my timorous fellow-traveller had been robbed of money and dispatches, and accused me.  The magistrate had let my uncle know, and both he and Miss Vernon, considering it a merit to distress a Hanoverian government in every way, never doubted my guilt, and only showed the way of escape.  On my indignant denial, Miss Vernon rode with me to the magistrate’s,