From the moment of Walter's departure the disconsolate Roseline sunk into so absolute a state of dejection, as not only distressed but alarmed her friends. She shunned society, seldom joined in conversation, and, if left a few moments by herself, fled to the apartments once inhabited by her lover;--there, and there only, did she assume the appearance of cheerfulness; every place in which she had seen him was endeared to her remembrance. The chairs on which he had rested, the table on which he had written, the window at which he had stood to listen for her coming,--all were interesting objects, and loved by her for his sake; and, in being deprived of seeing him, of hearing no longer the sound of a voice so long endeared to her fond imagination, she felt so total a deprivation of all that served to render life or fortune of real value, that the determined in her own mind, if this regretted lover should prove forgetful or inconstant, if he should return no more to the castle, to end her days in his forsaken apartments; for what would be the world to Roseline de Morney, if she should see Walter Fitzosbourne no more? Pompey, the little dog, which she had seen the second time of going to the dungeons, and which had been the favourite and faithful companion of her lover during some years of his confinement, she would scarcely permit to be out of her sight: to him she talked of his master, and in caressing the grateful little animal felt pleasure and consolation. Sir Philip and Lady de Morney were distressed beyond measure at seeing the despondency of their daughter, which they feared would put and end to all their flattering hopes. They endeavoured by every soothing and tender attention to reconcile her to this temporary separation, and in a short time succeeded so far as to prevail upon her to resume her usual employments. They advised her to dissipate her fears, and try to regain her spirits for the sake of the lover whose absence she lamented, reminding her how much it would harass and distress him, if, at his return to the castle, he found she had brought upon herself an indisposition which might still preclude him from enjoying her society. But their cares and anxieties were soon increased, and their minds occupied and thrown into the utmost consternation, from a circumstance more unaccountable, inexplicable, and alarming, than anything they had ever encountered. Madeline had escaped from the nunnery, and Edwin had left the castle. No one could tell what was become of them, but all supposed they were gone off together.--A general confusion took place; messengers were sent in pursuit of the fugitives, and a very considerable reward was offered to any who would bring tidings of Madeline. Sir Philip de Morney joined in the search, and sent out large parties of his men, in hopes they would be able to discover the place of their concealment.