It was during one of the uncertain lulls which occurred from time to time, that a figure emerged from the protecting shelter of one of the cathedral buttresses, and wrapping himself in the folds of a horseman’s cloak, strode hastily forward, evidently intending to take advantage of the brief calm and reach some haven of shelter. Scarcely a single person was to be seen in the deserted streets, through which the blast tore with such mad fury that the buffeted wayfarer staggered again. Visions of glowing fires, dry clothes, and comfortable shelter rose before his imagination as he passed a brightly lighted window. But there was no stopping for him; he must on and fight this tough battle with the pitiless wind as best he may. His destination is at length reached. The weather-beaten traveller descends a couple of steps, passes through an open doorway, and emerges from the outer darkness into a warm, cosy-looking bar—his clothes half-frozen, and crusted with patches of snow. He is apparently known here, for he is instantly relieved of his cloak and hat by a neat-looking damsel, who up to the present moment has been engaged in a light and refreshing flirtation with a large, hot-visaged man lounging before the fire. ‘Sharp weather this, sir,’ remarked that worthy, slightly moving from his place. ‘Sharp indeed!’ returned the other in a deep voice, as he shook some loose particles of snow from his person. ‘Ah, this’ll be a bad time for many people,’ was the next remark the large man ventured upon. A muttered exclamation dropped from the lips of the last comer, but was too indistinct to be heard. ‘There’ll be many a person remember this night,’ continued he of the fiery countenance, with an insane notion that he was getting along capitally. The individual addressed turned sharply round, fixing a pair of dark eyes upon the other’s face, but he did not speak. Somewhat discouraged, the large man paused for a minute ere he spoke again. The person he seemed so wishful to converse with was a tall, handsome, young fellow, dressed in a sort of half-military costume, and with a bold dashing look, sufficient in itself to attract notice. By his side was a silver-hilted rapier, the ordinary weapon of a gentleman of the day; and the martial look of the wearer was sufficient proof that he would be prompt to use it in any emergency. Seemingly not satisfied with the long inspection he had thought fit to take, our red-faced friend once more endeavoured to enter into conversation; but the gentleman, after giving the maid some orders, quitted the room. ‘Is that gentleman staying in the house, Peggy, my dear?’ asked the red-faced one of the waiting-maid. ‘Yes; he came here last night,’ replied the girl, who was perfectly ready to resume the aforesaid flirtation, which had been interrupted by the entrance of the visitor.