The day passed heavily on, and the evening, like the darkness it foretokened, “drew its slow length along.” Yet there were no tidings of Don Felix. The hour at which the parent and his child must separate, and which had all day appeared so remote and tardy, now seemed to approach too quickly: Martha and two male servants had already come to escort Evaline to her hostel; and still--still there was no intelligence from the Spaniard. Evaline felt her heart beat more anxiously, when the clatter of horses’ feet, which the stillness of the night reverberated from the hard road without, struck distinctly on her ear. Before she could make any remark on the circumstance, the horses were drawn up beneath the chamber-window, and a loud knock was inflicted on the gaol-door. “’Tis Felix!” cried Evaline, starting up. “Be patient, dear,” said Sir Edgar, twining his arm round her slender waist. “Thou art too anxious. Thou tremblest like an aspen.” Evaline made no reply: she did not seek even to release her waist, by which her emotion had been betrayed, from her father’s clasp; but, in this position, waited whatever intelligence might be about to be communicated. She was not kept long in suspense. In a few minutes, the chamber-door was opened; and the gaoler, with a show of great deference, introduced two cavaliers. One of these, who was rather the taller of the two, Evaline recognised as the person who had been associated, in his capacity of magistrate, with the vindictive Shedlock, in the inquiry which had terminated in the committal of her father to prison; but the other was so closely muffled in a capacious riding-cloak, that she could not even conjecture, from any point in his appearance, who he could be. As the gaoler retired, however, and left them by their four selves, he threw back his cloak, and revealed the features of Hildebrand Clifford. Both Evaline and Sir Edgar gave a slight start; but their surprise, though greater than can well be imagined, was quickly lost in the excess of their joy. Evaline, who was the first to recover herself, could hardly place a check on her feelings, and was almost impelled to spring to Hildebrand’s side, and reveal her pleasure in the warmth of her welcome. But she refrained from this procedure, though she could not repress a sweet and modest blush, bright as the feelings it expressed, which the excitement had called from her heart, and which secretly reproached her for her eagerness and impetuosity. But Hildebrand needed not words to assure him he was welcome. He saw at a glance, not only that he was welcome, but that his presence afforded his two friends the very highest pleasure. He paused but a moment, and then, with a smile on his lips, stepped gracefully forward, and presented his left hand to Sir Edgar, and his right to Evaline. “We meet in a gloomy place,” was all he said. “God’s will be done!” said Sir Edgar, bowing his head.