“There it is,” said the hindmost person, who was none other than the parson of Slaidburn.  “That lantern, I think, is unquenchable.  Does thy master never quit yon burning pinnacle?”

“May be,” replied the servant, “he careth not to be oft abroad; and who dare thwart his will?  ’Troth he had need be of a tough temper that should give him speech unquestioned.”

“They who hold a higher communion reck but little of this frail and pitiful dust,” returned the clergyman, after a solemn pause.  “It is enough that he hath sent for me.  I would fain warn him ere he depart, else yon walls had not again echoed my footstep.”

This confidential domestic spoke not; he was either too much attached to his master, or implicated with him, to hazard a remark.

The path was now wider and less difficult of access, leading over a pretty knoll, glittering like lode-stars in the dew, beyond which arose the huge and cumbrous pile then distinguished as the castle of Hornby.

The barking of some half-dozen hoarse-mouthed dogs announced their approach.  Passing over the drawbridge, they entered the court-yard, from whence a side postern at that time opened a communication to the turret-chamber without passing through the main building.  A winding staircase led them directly to the summit.  Soft gleams of moonlight came at intervals through the narrow loopholes, being the only help or direction whereby to accomplish their ascent.  After a tedious gyration, which more than once made the hindmost party pause to obtain a respite, the guide opened a low door.  It swung heavily aside, disclosing a small ante-room, destitute of all furniture save a large oaken chest, that seemed to be the depository, or “ark,” as it was usually called, for the safe keeping of the family archives.

The conductor approaching an opposite door gave a private signal.  It flew open as if by its own impulse, displaying a chamber of no mean dimensions, in which, by the light from a gigantic lamp, was seen a figure seated before a table absolutely groaning with piles of books, and various apparatus of unknown and wondrous import.  Instruments of unimaginable shape lay in heaps round the apartment; their use it were impossible to conjecture.  Furnaces, alembics, jars, glass urinals, and bottles of all sizes, rendered the chamber perilous of access, save to those who were acquainted with the intricacies of this labyrinth.  “Sir Edward,” as he was yet generally styled, looked full at his visitors as they entered.  His eye was large and dark, the expression fierce and commanding.  He was clad in a gown of black silk, covering an inner vest of sables.  From a broad belt, glittering with costly stones, hung a short sword and a pair of pistols richly embossed.

The upper portion of his head was bald; the hair on its sides short and frizzly.  His beard was of a reddish tinge, trimmed square and bushy, beneath which his white ruff seemed to glisten from the sudden contrast.  His forehead was high and retreating; his face pale, and-his cheek hollow and slightly wrinkled.  His nose was small, looking ill suited to the other features, which were large and strongly-marked.  His mouth was full, but compressed; and his teeth beautifully white and well shaped.  When he spoke, they were much exposed, projecting slightly, and tending to give an air of ferocity to his countenance.