It was a fine clear morning in September, when, mounted on a powerful horse, and quite alone, William Seymour began his journey towards Buckinghamshire. Seldom were more joyful feelings in the heart of any one; he was going to unite for ever his fate to her he loved best on earth; nothing had occurred to interrupt his proceedings; the eyes of policy seemed blinded; the very prying spirit of courtly scandal had not penetrated his secret. All his preparations were made. The ring upon the finger, and the benediction of the Church, was all that was wanted to render Arabella his own. On, on he sped, then, with an eager spur, and with little apprehension of meeting any one who was likely to carry intelligence of his journey to the Court, which had now removed to Greenwich. Taking the shortest way as it then lay, he crossed the Thames by the Horseferry,--which, at that time, existed about a mile beyond Sunbury,--recrossed it again some miles higher up, and then spurred on into Buckinghamshire through the deep beech woods, whose green leaves were beginning to show the bronzing hand of time. He did not now approach the house of Lord Shrewsbury from the side of the river, but passing by Burnham and Hedsor, took a circuit round towards the great gates of the park. He was still about a mile distant, and the day had not yet reached the tenth hour, when he observed a man on horseback, apparently looking out for something in one of the neighbouring woods, about a quarter of a mile in advance. Taking it for one of the keepers watching the game, he rode on at the same quick pace; but the moment after, the person whom he had perceived put his horse into a quick trot, and advanced towards him. The figure was familiar to his eye, and in a minute after, as they approached nearer to each other, Seymour recognised Sir Harry West. An undefined feeling of apprehension seized upon him; though he had expected to find the old knight at Malvoisie; for it had been agreed that he should be invited to act as father to the bride, as the Earl of Shrewsbury declined to take any part in the business. But then, what brought him out at that early hour, if nothing had gone wrong? and the first question William Seymour asked as they met, was, "Is anything the matter?" "Quick, quick," cried Sir Harry, laying his hand upon his young friend's bridle rein. "Come with me as fast as possible down this lane. There is not an instant to lose;" and, turning Seymour's horse, he led him a prisoner to the mouth of a narrow green cart-road through the wood. Then freeing his bridle, he spurred on at a gallop, beckoning to the young gentleman to follow. Seymour did so in some consternation; and on they went as if they were hunting the deer, till, at the first turning to the right, where the woods concealed them from the high road, Sir Harry quitted the path he was following, and somewhat slackened his pace.