Ida would not cast a single glance towards the side-chambers, where the dames and damsels of former days used to assemble, for in these there were no torches; and she could not help fearing, lest she should discover in them some inhabitant of the other world made visible by the light of his own burning brimstone. She therefore continued to look towards the illuminated gallery, and listened with pleased attention to Father Hilarius, while he dwelt upon the brighter parts of the family traditions, and by descriptions of splendid feasts and stately tournaments, contrived to beguile the trembling girl of her terrors. —“But we forget ourselves,” said the Monk at length, suddenly breaking off his narration, “we must not suffer day-light to surprise us in these untenanted apartments, where we should undoubtedly be sought after, and then if found what would be the consequence? you would be consigned to the arms of the decrepit Egbert, while I should be sent back to my Convent with indignation by your uncle. Come, lady, come! follow me, where peace and security await your arrival.”— —“Lead on, good father!” replied Ida; “be you but my guide, and I will not hesitate to follow.”— —“Good!” said Hilarius; and then extinguishing some of the lights, he took them from the chandeliers.—“Then take special care of these tapers; they will be necessary for us on the way, by which we must escape. Now then hasten onwards, and be alarmed at nothing, which you may encounter. Be assured, there is no real danger.”— Thus saying, he gave her a small basket, which already appeared to contain some provisions, and in which he now deposited the tapers. These preparations for a long journey through gloomy ways were by no means calculated to preserve in Ida’s mind that temporary tranquillity, which it had so lately recovered. An involuntary shuddering seized her; and as he lighted her forwards, he assured her so often of his acting honestly by her, that she began to suspect, that it must be his intention to deceive her.