Passing through the garden, the earl and countess took a path that led them along the rocky edge of the ravine, at the bottom of which flowed the Devil's Water.

At length they reached the wood and entered a sombre alley arched over by boughs and designated the “Maiden's Walk.”

According to a legend connected with the place, a phantom wearing the form of a beautiful female was sometimes seen in the alley, and the appearance of the “Maiden” was thought to bode ill to any member of the Radclyffe family.

Not without some superstitious terror did the earl track this darksome walk. He had often been there, but had never beheld the phantom, but this seemed an occasion when, if ever, the Maiden might be expected to appear.

At the end of the alley a narrow path turned off on the left that brought them, after several windings, to an open space in the heart of the thicket. Here stood the hut; and thus buried, it was not likely that the little habitation would be discovered unless its situation were pointed out.

As the noble pair drew near the hut, a savage growl was heard, and a large, fierce-looking dog rushed from behind a great stack of wood. The moment, however, the savage animal beheld the earl he became quiet and crouched at his feet.

At the same time the woodcutter made his appearance.

Nathan Blacklaw was strongly built, and had a manly, resolute look. On his shoulder he carried a hatchet, and his costume consisted of a leather jacket, a leather cap, and long leather gaiters, reaching considerably above the knee. He had come forward on hearing his dog bark, and immediately recognizing the earl and countess, doffed his cap and made a rough obeisance.

“Cheviot knows me as well as you do, Nathan,” observed the earl, patting the dog's large head.

“Ay, he wad na ha' allowed any one but your lordship and my lady to come nigh the hut,” said the wood-cutter.

“You must find him a good companion in this solitary spot, Nathan,” remarked the countess.

“'Deed I do, my lady. I dunna know what I and my dame should do without Cheviot.”

“We have come to have a look at the hut, Nathan,” said the earl. “Show us inside it, will you?”

Just then a good-looking woman—not more than thirty-five—plainly, yet not unbecomingly dressed, came forth.

Without any hesitation or embarrassment, Dame Black-law at once ushered the noble pair into the cottage.

Necessarily it was very small, but it looked clean and tidy. It contained only a couple of rooms: in the largest, on which the door opened, the inmates had their meals; it was furnished with a chest of drawers, a small oak table, an arm-chair, a rush-bottomed chair, and a settee.

Besides these there was a clock, and in one corner was a cupboard containing pewter plates, three or four drinking-mugs, certain articles of crockery, and a brace of squat-looking Dutch bottles. Fixed against the wall on the side opposite the cupboard was a crucifix, for Nathan and his wife were Papists. On the hearth burnt a cheerful wood fire, and above it hung a large iron pot. Over the mantelpiece was placed a gun. The inner room, about half the size of the other, held the bed of the worthy couple, who had no family.

“What will you say, dame, when I tell you that I am coming to spend a few days with you?” remarked the earl.

“Your lordship is pleased to jest,” she replied, with a smile. “It isn't very likely you will stay here.”

“Likely or not, you may expect me to-morrow morning,” said the earl.

She held up her hands in astonishment.

“To speak plainly, I don't find it safe at the castle,” said the earl. “If I remain there I shall be arrested, so I mean to take refuge in your cottage.”

“I thought as much,” cried Nathan. “I shall be proud, indeed, to afford your lordship a hiding-place, and I think you will be quite safe here.”

“The magistrates are coming with a party of horse-militia to-morrow, and as they won't find me at the castle, they are sure to make a strict search in the neighbourhood.”

“Let 'em try. We'll baffle 'em,” said the woodcutter.

“But however shall we accommodate his lordship?” said

Dame Blacklaw to the countess. “He won't condescend to occupy our bed.”

“Give yourself no trouble about me, dame,” interposed the earl. “I can sleep very well in that arm-chair. With Cheviot to watch over me, I shall fear no nocturnal intruder.”

“Your lordship will have timely warning should any one come near the place. Of that you may rest assured,” said the woodcutter.

Having made all the arrangements he thought necessary, the earl then left with the countess. His parting injunction to the woodcutter and his wife was to look out for him early in the morning, and not to breathe a word to any one that they expected him.