In the passage they found Alice Dunscombe, with her face concealed in her mantle; and, it would seem, by the heavy sighs that escaped from her, deeply agitated by the interview which she had just encountered.
But as the reader may have some curiosity to know what occurred to distress this unoffending lady so sensibly, we shall detain the narrative, to relate the substance of that which passed between her and the individual whom she sought.
CHAPTER XIV.
“As when a lion in his den,
Hath heard the hunters' cries,
And rushes forth to meet his foes,
So did the Douglas rise—”
Percy.
Alice Dunscombe did not find the second of the prisoners buried, like Griffith, in sleep, but he was seated on one of the old chairs that were in the apartment, with his back to the door, and apparently looking through the small window, on the dark and dreary scenery over which the tempest was yet sweeping in its fury. Her approach was unheeded, until the light from her lamp glared across his eyes, when he started from his musing posture, and advanced to meet her. He was the first to speak.
“I expected this visit,” he said, “when I found that you recognized my voice; and I felt a deep assurance in my breast, that Alice Dunscombe would never betray me.”
His listener, though expecting this confirmation of her conjectures, was unable to make an immediate reply, but she sank into the seat he had abandoned, and waited a few moments, as if to recover her powers.
“It was, then, no mysterious warning! no airy voice that mocked my ear; but a dread reality!” she at length said. “Why have you thus braved the indignation of the laws of your country? On what errand of fell mischief has your ruthless temper again urged you to embark?”