part of the castle, and opens into a private place behind the kitchen; the other end goes through to the end of the wood, I believe, for I never had courage to go so far on, but this morning, when I went down the passage, and came round, I found both doors forced off their hinges below, and was much afraid to come up, where I found you, madam: who it is that has been so wicked, I can only guess, and Lord have mercy on the poor lady, I fear no good will come to her." "But how come the garden door open; could they convey her through that into the road?" "Yes, (replied Joseph) that was the way, for after you went up stairs I went into the garden, and the great gate, at the end, was unbolted just at the end of the wood, and I do suppose they had horses waiting there, or a carriage. The few jewels my poor lady had is taken from her little chest, but there are no locks broke on the drawers, and her pockets are left behind, on a stool, with every thing in them; 'twas no robbers, my lady, I fear." "I fear so too, (answered Matilda, with a deep sigh;) I dread that she is fallen into worse hands—" "Into worse than I fear has got her, (said Joseph) she cannot be fallen—Lord, how I rejoiced she had got your ladyship with her." "Aye, Joseph, (resumed Matilda) I grieve for her and feel my own loss;—Do you know her sister the Marchioness?" "I saw her once after my lady was married; they say she is very happy—God help us, 'twas n't so here." "Your lady has wrote to the Marchioness relative to me; did not you take a letter yesterday?" "Yes, my lady, and if there be any answer to it I shall be sure to have it, and you may open it, you know, because the good lady never wrote to any one else." Poor Matilda knew not what to do; she was desirous of staying till this answer arrived. She was anxious to explore those apartments that were locked, and after some hesistation asked Joseph if he would meet her there, to-morrow morning. "Aye,
