This you will allow, Walter, was but a very vague sort of a supposition to ground any belief upon; for, as eyes and noses are the common lot of all mankind, it may happen now and then that two or more may be greatly alike. Yet, so diligent is hope and imagination, I could not persuade myself these eyes and this nose had any owner but the spright of the castle.--It was Miss Valmont and her hermit, my fancy said. I blessed my stars. I cursed my stars. I wondered how and why they should come hither. Then, I remembered, that fancy, though sometimes a prophetess, is rarely an oracle, and I thought it might not be Miss Valmont and her hermit.--I consulted much with Griffiths; and, at length, had recourse to the waiter, a dapper shabby-coated fellow with a wooden leg. They came, he said, on horseback before seven o'clock. A man, who conducted them, did not alight. They were impatient to be gone. They waited for a chaise. They had ordered a breakfast which neither of them had tasted. The lady did not appear, he thought, equipped for travelling. The gentleman was melancholy, and the lady restless and agitated. Miss Valmont: whispered I to myself. 'They are a fine couple,' said the waiter. I asked if he thought they were a married pair. He answered, he was sure she must be a married lady. I enquired if the gentleman seemed to be very fond of her. 'Not at all,' replied the waiter. 'The gentleman sits writing, Sir, with his back to her. She walks about the room, muttering to herself. When I carried in the breakfast, he leaned his head against the wall, and groaned with his eyes shut.' It cannot be Miss Valmont and her hermit, thought I. 'Is the lady handsome?' I asked. The waiter thought she was too pale to be very handsome; but he added that in all his born days he never beheld such a head of hair. 'Of what colour is it?' I asked. It was neither black, nor brown, nor as red as Jenny's;--he thought it was not any colour, but it shone as if gold threads were among it. Miss Valmont: whispered my forward heart. I rose and walked hastily across the room. 'What did they talk about?' said I. 'They don't talk at all, Sir. The poor gentleman seems very bad; and as I told your honor before, she walks about muttering. When they first came, as I was lighting a fire for them, the lady pulled off her hat just as if she was in a passion, and then she shook her fine waving locks, as though she was wond'rous proud of them. And she said her head ached with that--cumbrance; and she said something more about customs and cumbrances, but I forget what, your honor. While she talked, the gentleman looked so kind and pretty at her it did my heart good to see him; but he is either very ill or very whimmy, for, immediately, while she took off her cloak, he laid his head on the table with his face downward and sighed as if his heart was breaking.'