"You?--you?" cried Lord Walton, gazing at her sternly, while his lip quivered in the attempt to suppress the emotions within him. The girl answered nothing, and after a struggle with himself he waved his hand, saying, "I forgive you, my poor girl, you did it when you were not yourself. Tell no one else, Arrah--the secret is safe with me;" and he turned away, lest one harsh word should mingle with the kinder ones he had spoken. When he had gone some ten or twelve paces, however, Arrah Neil darted after him, caught his hand, and pressed her beautiful lips upon it. "Do not abandon me, Charles Walton," she said. "Do not cast me off and hate me. Tell me, would you rather see all those ruins, and lose all you have lost, or be tomorrow a prisoner in the dark Tower of London, perhaps never to ride the green fields again while you live?" Lord Walton paused with a look of bewildered inquiry; but then suddenly a light rose up in his eyes, and laying his hand upon Arrah Neil's shoulder, he said, "Thank you, Arrah! thank you. 'Tis a wild way of deliverance. Yet thank you, dear child. You meant it well, and it has succeeded. But here are people coming. Go back to Annie; we must not leave you behind us." CHAPTER VII. The seasons of the year seemed to take their tone from the spirit of the times and the discord that was raging throughout the land. The summer was gloomy and full of storms. Instead of bright sunshine and smiling skies, heavy clouds had been gathering over the heavens from the beginning of the year; and although every now and then a warm and splendid day, such as that which we have described in the beginning of this tale, broke in upon the heavy aspect of the summer, as if to remind man of fairer and happier times, yet week after week passed in tempests, rain, and gloom; and signs and portents, such as might have alarmed nations in more superstitious days, were seen in the sky, and filled the hearts of the more timid with apprehension.