Concerning themselves little about their own steeds, the party took those which first offered, and embarking man and horse in the boat, soon pushed across the waters of the lutulent Don. Arrived at the opposite banks of the river, they mounted, and, guided by Luke, after half an hour's sharp riding, arrived at the skirts of Rookwood Park. Entering this beautiful sylvan domain, they rode for some time silently among the trees, till they reached the knoll whence Luke beheld the hall on the eventful night of his discovery of his mother's wedding ring. A few days only had elapsed, but during that brief space what storms had swept over his bosom--what ravages had they not made! He was then all ardor--all impetuosity--all independence. The future presented a bright unclouded prospect. Wealth, honors, and happiness apparently awaited him. It was still the same exquisite scene, hushed, holy, tranquil--even solemn, as upon that glorious night. The moon was out, silvering wood and water, and shining on the white walls of the tranquil mansion. Nature was calm, serene, peaceful as ever. Beneath the trees, he saw the bounding deer--upon the water, the misty wreaths of vapor--all, all was dreamy, delightful, soothing, all save his heart--_there_ was the conflict--_there_ the change. Was it a troubled dream, with the dark oppression of which he was struggling, or was it stern, waking, actual life? That moment's review of his wild career was terrible. He saw to what extremes his ungovernable passions had hurried him; he saw their inevitable consequences; he saw also his own fate; but he rushed madly on. He swept round the park, keeping under the covert of the wood, till he arrived at the avenue leading to the mansion. The stems of the aged limes gleamed silvery white in the moonshine. Luke drew in the rein beneath one of the largest of the trees. "A branch has fallen," said he, as his grandsire joined him. "Ha!" exclaimed Alan, "a branch from that tree?" "It bodes ill to Ranulph," whispered Luke, "does it not?" "Perchance," muttered Alan. "'Tis a vast bough!" "We meet within an hour," said Luke, abruptly. "Within the tomb of our ancestry," replied Alan; "I will await you there." And as he rode away, Alan murmured to himself the following verse from one of his own ballads: But whether gale or calm prevail, or threatening cloud hath fled, By hand of Fate, predestinate, a limb that tree will shed-- A verdant bough, untouched, I trow, by axe or tempest's breath-- To Rookwood's head an omen dread of fast approaching death. _CHAPTER III_ _HANDASSAH_