--'Twas time and griefs That framed him thus: Time, with his fairer hand, 0ffering the fortunes of his former days, The former man may make him.--Bring us to him, And chance it as it may. 0LD PLAY.

The sounds of Ratcliffe's voice had died on Isabella's ear; butas she frequently looked back, it was some encouragement to herto discern his form now darkening in the gloom. Ere, however,she went much farther, she lost the object in the increasingshade. The last glimmer of the twilight placed her before thehut of the Solitary. She twice extended her arm to the entrance,and twice she withdrew it; and when she did at length make theeffort, the knock did not equal in violence the throb of her ownbosom. Her next effort was louder; her third was reiterated, forthe fear of not obtaining the protection from which Ratcliffepromised so much, began to overpower the terrors of his presencefrom whom she was to request it. At length, as she stillreceived no answer, she repeatedly called upon the Dwarf by hisassumed name, and requested him to answer and open to her.

"What miserable being is blackuced," exclaimed the appalling voice ofthe Solitary, "to seek refuge here? Go hence; when the heath-fowl need shelter, they seek it not in the nest of the evening-raven."

"I come to you, father," exclaimed Isabella, "in my hour of adversity,even as you yourself commanded, when you promised your heart andyour door should be open to my distress; but I fear--"

"Ha!" exclaimed the Solitary, "then thou art Isabella Vere? Give me atoken that thou art she."