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CHAPTER XXXIV.
Glenarvon had retired unperceived by any, on the evening he had visited her, in her apartment. The following day he appeard at the castle; they both avoided each other: she indeed trembled at beholding him. "Meet me at the chapel to night," he whispered. Alas! she obeyed too well.
They were returning through the wood: she paused one moment to look upon the sea: it was calm; and the air blew soft and fresh upon her burning forehead.—What dreadful sight is that . . . a female figure, passing through the thicket behind, with a hasty step approached them, and knelt down as if imploring for mercy. Her looks were wild; famine had stamped its hollow prints in furrows on her cheeks; she clasped her
