While William and old Dixon unhooked the chains of the drawbridge from the posts and let it slowly down, Miss Walton returned to her room, where she had left her aunt and the Earl of Beverley, exclaiming with a heart relieved-- "He is safe! he is safe!" Lord Beverley took her hand as she approached his side, gazing earnestly in her face, and saying, "Thank God!" Annie Walton felt his look and his words almost as a reproach for having forgotten him in her anxiety for her brother; though, in truth, such was far from the earl's meaning, his only thought at that moment being, what might have been the fate of that sweet girl, had she lost both her brother and her lover in one night. "And how are you, Francis?" said Annie Walton, wishing, with all the frankness of her heart, to make up for her absence by giving him the name she knew he would love the best upon her lips. "Forgive me for leaving you; but, oh! I was terrified for Charles." Before the earl could reply, there was the sound of many persons' feet in the hall and the vestibule, and the voice of Lord Walton was heard giving various orders, and making inquiries concerning the wounds which his followers had received. It seemed that they were but slight, or at all events that the men made light of them, for they all protested that there was no harm done, and the only one who seemed to complain was the gallant Captain Barecolt, who replied to the young nobleman's inquiries-- "It is the most unfortunate thing in the world, my lord. I had rather the fellow had run me through the body." "But it is not serious, surely, captain," said Lord Walton. "Let me see." "Serious, my lord! it is ruin!" replied Barecolt. "It is right across my nose. I am marked for life, so that I shall never be able to conceal myself or pass for Captain Jersval any more." Lord Walton laughed, replying-- "You will do so better than ever, captain; for you are so well known without the mark that no one will know you with it." "That is true, too," replied Captain Barecolt; and the next moment Lord Walton, advancing through the vestibule, pushed open the door, which his sister had left ajar, and entered Lady Margaret's sitting-room. He was not alone, however; for by the hand he led poor Arrah Neil, somewhat pale, and with her hair dishevelled, but perhaps only looking the more exquisitely beautiful, as the large chesnut curls fell wildly round her fair brow, and over her soft rounded cheek. With a cry of joy and surprise, Annie Walton sprang forward and took the poor girl in her arms, exclaiming-- "Ah, dear Arrah! this is a glad sight indeed!" But the effect of this sudden apparition upon Lady Margaret Langley was even greater than upon her niece. She gazed upon Arrah Neil with a look expressive of more than wonder; and then hurrying forward, she took her by the hand, fixing her eyes upon her countenance, and asked in a tremulous voice-- "Who is this?"