His appearance, certainly, was far from being prepossessing. His face was deadly pale, and this, perhaps, was the more remarkable, in the gloomy light that prevailed, from the unnatural lustre of his eyes, the rays of which could almost be seen. The upper part of his body, above his waist, appeared to have no covering but his shirt; but, from his having a large sheet turned over his head and shoulders, in the fashion of a penance-garment, which hid it from observation, his precise dress could not be ascertained. The arm that sustained the lanthorn, however, and which was pushed out of the folds of the sheet, displayed only his shirt-sleeve, and, all things considered, this gave the conjecture warranty. His feet were bare; and his murrey-coloured hose and hanse-lines, or trousers, which could be seen through the sheet, with his drapery, and his pale features, formed altogether a figure that, remembering the locality, could not be viewed without great discomposure. Evaline waited his approach in the utmost trepidation. “Who have we here?” he demanded, on coming up with her. He raised his lanthorn as he spoke, and, holding it out before him, glanced inquiringly in her face. “Be not afeard! be not afeard!” he said, perceiving that she met his gaze with the greatest alarm. “Thou wilt have no hurt at my hands.” These words, and the tone in which they were uttered, which was kind and gentle, somewhat reassured Evaline; and after a brief pause, she ventured to reply. “If thou be Bernard Gray,” she said, in a tremulous tone, “I have a packet for thee, from Master Hildebrand Clifford.” “Ah!” cried Bernard, eagerly, “where is he?” “Alas, he is far away now!” answered Evaline. “Howbeit, before his departure, he bade me, if I should need succour, to give this packet to thee, and thou wouldst thenceforward stand my friend.” Bernard, without making a reply, took from her hand the proffered packet, and, at the same time, again gazed earnestly in her face. As he did so, his eyes gradually lit up with anger, and he seemed, from his altered manner, and the change that passed over his pale face, suddenly to regard her with a rooted enmity. Indeed, he was now sensible who she was, and, in her pallid but lovely features, he recognized the Popish heiress of Neville Grange. “Well,” he said, on making this discovery, “thou shall hear how he commends thee to me.” Thus speaking, he tore open the packet, and proceeded to give his promise effect. There were three enclosures; but the upmost one, though carefully folded, was unsealed, and engaged his attention first. Thrusting the others under his arm, he held the one specified up to the light; and in a tone which was originally bitter, but which gradually grew mild and agitated, read these words:-- “To my right trusty and singular good friend, Master Bernard Gray, at the sign of the Angel, these:--