It was on a still and sultry evening, about the close of summer, in the year of grace one thousand three hundred and forty-seven, that a solitary traveller was seen hastily descending, by a woodland path, into the gloomy thickets that surrounded the neighbouring priory of Burscough.  The rain-drops were just pattering on the dark leaves above him, and the birds were fast hastening to some deeper shelter.  The timid rabbit, as the stranger passed by, darted into its burrow, and many a quiet face gazed on him from beneath a pair of ragged antlers, peeping over the fences that guarded the demesne.  Here and there a narrow glade opened beautifully into the woods, through which might be seen green lawns and pastures, with herds of dappled deer stealing silently to their covert.  The low growl of the distant thunder seemed to come upon each living thing like the voice of some invisible spirit, subduing with its mysterious speech every power and faculty, with an authority superior to all human control.

The traveller hastened on.  The pinnacles and stately turrets of the priory were just visible through the arched boughs, when, turning into a more sequestered path, he observed a female of a wild and uncouth aspect standing in the way.  She showed no disposition to move as he approached, nor did she seem to notice his presence.  He stopped, but sufficiently near to distinguish the motion of her lips.  An unintelligible mutter accompanied it.  She looked darkly towards the south, beckoning to the coming thunder, and pointing, as though she would guide its course, towards the grey walls of the priory.

She was dressed in a dark-coloured corset fitting close to the body, and a hood of the same materials.  Her hair was a deep jet, and fantastically twisted about her face.  She was of low stature, but not bowed by decrepitude or age.  Her cheek was hollow, and her complexion swarthy, but her eye grew unnaturally bright, blazing out with a fierceness, intense as though the fire within were visible through these chinks and crevices of the soul’s tenement.

Though the storm was rapidly approaching she still kept her place, unawed by the rude elements, and seeming to surfer but little inconvenience from the shower, now descending with great vigour.  The path was narrow, and a thick underwood skirted the road, so that for the stranger to pass was impossible, unless his opponent chose to take up a more favourable position.  But the sudden burst of a terrific thunder-clap, which seemed to roll in a continuous peal above them, made him less ceremonious on this head than the laws of gallantry might warrant.  He drew nearer to the female, with the intention of seeking a passage on that side where the least disturbance would be given.

“Go not.  ’Tis accursed!” said she, as if preparing to dispute the attempt.

“I am a stranger, and hastening for shelter.  In troth, ’tis a narrow goit that will not let a drowning man through.  Prythee, dame, let me not, in some wise, seem uncourteous.  Yet”——­