“Disguise!” cried Reginald, recovering some little sense of what was going forward. “Who talked of disguise? Was it thou, most rustic Leofwyn, or thou, most black-browed Elfrida? Who talked of disguise? I care not. If I am not----” A loud and piercing shriek interrupted the speaker. You might have thought all the maidens of the shire had conspired to deafen the ears of the Saxon proprietor. A door was suddenly flung open, and a warder, with terror and consternation pictured on every limb and feature, rushed up to the daïs, and bending his head as if to receive the chastisement which his negligence would call down, exclaimed, “The Lady Elfrida hath been taken away from the castle!” It were difficult to describe minutely the astonishment which pervaded the hall. Vassals and menials of every degree snatched their arms and fled from the apartment. Nothing was heard but inquiries, and weeping, and imprecations. Nothing was known but that the lady had been within the last few minutes carried off by a strange knight mounted on a swift bay horse, and attended by one follower. It was supposed that he must have entered and departed by swimming the moat, which, as it was now midnight, was an attempt by no means impracticable. He had been seen by a peasant who was returning from an adjacent forest; his lovely prize was thrown across a led palfrey, and appeared to be in a swoon. All was confusion. The retainers of Leofwyn ran to and fro in all directions but the right one. Armour resounded with a dismal clang, as it was hastily thrown over the shoulders of the domestics; torches were flinging their red glare in every direction; the voices of the pursuers were repeated by frequent echoes, as they shouted and called to one another through the darkness. In the meantime the chief personages in the hall were in a situation partaking strongly of the ludicrous. The black-eyed damsel, who had figured throughout the banquet as the daughter of Leofwyn, had cried out, as the warder had delivered his news, “My dear mistress, my poor mistress!” and fainted upon her throne. The bridegroom had been in some measure roused from his intoxication, but was still unable to collect his ideas, so as to form any idea of the origin or meaning of the tumult. Leofwyn appeared to be in a state of mental stupefaction. In spite of the foibles of the old man’s character, he was doatingly fond of his daughter; and the news of her loss, coming in the midst of revelry, seemed to have withered him like a thunder-bolt. He sat still, looking on the confusion with a vacant gaze, and inquiring from time to time, “Is my daughter well? How fares it with the Lady Elfrida? Does she not come to her old father?” These three personages, therefore, remained quietly upon their seats, while every one around them was in commotion; like the bronzed images in modern halls, that hold their candelabras so calmly, while the guests are all in the bustle of departure.