She held it to the light with a trembling hand, and with undisguised astonishment read:
"Field of Archery, Castle Cor, May, MDCXCIV."
"Merciful Heaven!" she almost shrieked, "it is—it is the same! Who can have done this? Whence came it? 'Tis Lester!"
"It is Lester!" repeated a deep, rich voice.
She turned with a half cry and startled look towards the window, and, to her terror, beheld standing just without on the balcony, in the shadow of the curtain, a tall dark figure enveloped in a cloak, his features shaded by sable plumes drooping over his brow from a Spanish hat looped boldly up in front.
She would have shrieked, but her surprise and alarm for a moment denied her utterance. She leaned on her harp for support, and gazed on the intruder without the power to move. He advanced a step and stood within the window. The movement restored her presence of mind, and with a degree of self-possession that surprised herself, and in the tone and manner of one who feels herself insulted by intrusion rather than intimidated by the presence of the intruder, she cried,
"Stand, sir, whoever thou art! Approach no nearer, or I alarm the Hall."
As she spoke she extended her hand towards a silver bell that stood on a table near her. Quicker than thought, the stranger's hand was upon hers, and he was kneeling, without cloak or bonnet, at her feet. Surprise, rather than fear, rooted her to the spot. She gazed on him with astonishment; and, as she gazed, her features worked with extraordinary emotion. The light shone full upon his face, and exhibited the features of a fair, handsome man, scarce twenty-five, with light flowing hair, an eye like a hawk's, and a figure of the most noble and manly proportions. He wore a short Flemish cloak of green cloth, richly embroidered, and a short Spanish sword, with a jewelled hilt, hung at his side. His face was lifted to hers with eloquent pleading. She met his gaze with a wild, alarmed look—clasped her hands on her forehead as if she would recall the past, and steadfastly fixed her eyes upon him as if tracing in his features a resemblance that startled her.
"Kate."
Soft were the tones of his deep, rich voice as he spoke, and full of tenderness were his eyes as he lifted them to hers.