Constance did watch the approaching party, however, till it became evident that those whom she saw were coming direct towards the castle. They were now seen and now lost among the trees and hedges; but every time they reappeared they were nearer.
At length Constance turned her eyes to Iola, and said, "they are coming hither, whoever they are; and my uncle is certainly not one of the party. They are only five or six in all, and seem young men. Had we not better go away to our own chamber?"
"No," answered Iola, starting up. "I will stay and face them. Something seems to tell me, that I know who is coming. You shall see how well I can behave, Constance, wild as you think me, and untutored in the world's ways as I am."
"They may be mere strangers after all," said Constance; "but here they are; for I can hear the dull sound of their horses' feet upon the drawbridge."
Iola sprang up the steps again with a light step, and twined her arm in that of her cousin. Both movements were very natural. We always like to stand upon a height when we meet those of whom we have any fear or any doubt; and Iola felt the need of sympathy which the very touch of her cousin's arm afforded her. A pause followed, during which Constance sought to say something and to look unconcerned; but words she found not; and her eyes as well as Iola's remained fixed upon the door. At length it opened; and, preceded by one of the officers of the castle, but unannounced by him, two gentlemen entered with a quick step. One was instantly recognized by both the fair girls who stood in the oriel, as Sir Edward Hungerford. The other was a stranger to them both. He was a dark handsome-looking young man, of some two or three and twenty years of age, dressed in somewhat of a foreign fashion, which, had they been much acquainted with such matters, they would have perceived at once to be the mode of the Burgundian court; but Iola's eye rested not upon his dress. It was his face that she scanned; and Constance felt a sort of shudder pass over her cousin's frame, as she leaned upon her arm, which pained and grieved her much. She saw nothing disagreeable, nothing to dislike in the countenance or air of the stranger. His step was free and graceful, his carriage dignified and lordly, his look, though perhaps a little haughty, was open and frank. In fact he was a man well calculated to please a lady's eye; and again Constance said to herself--"There must be some other attachment."
The stranger came on at an equal pace with Sir Edward Hungerford; but it was the latter who first spoke.
"Permit me," he said, "dear ladies, to be lord of the ceremonies, and introduce to you both my noble friend Arthur, Lord Fulmer."
The other seemed not to hear what he said; but, mounting the steps into the oriel at once, he took Iola's hand, saying--
"This must be the Lady Iola."
With a cheek as pale as death, and an eye cold and fixed, but with a firm and unwavering tone, the fair girl answered--