But these gentle words only seemed to open the floodgates still wider, and the frail frame of the fair girl quivered with emotion. Recently she had passed through sufferings, privations, terrors innumerable; but as she looked upon the mailed warrior before her, it seemed as though a very tower of refuge had been found. The most casual observer would have been powerfully impressed by the striking contrast in these two human beings--Ethel, with her fair complexion, deep blue eyes, and rich tresses of fair hair falling with unkempt gracefulness over her shoulders, being a picture of maidenly grace, and an ideal high-born Saxon maiden; whilst the Earl's tall, muscular frame, well-shapen head, and curly locks, seemed like a modern Hercules made for the times, and equipped by Nature to play a conspicuous part in a troublous epoch,--times, in which personal prowess, dauntless courage, and a commanding presence were essential qualities in one who aspired to be a leader of men. We can scarcely wonder that there should be a touch of more than wonted gentleness in the tone of his voice, as he spoke to this fair and sorrowing maiden. "We heard of your misfortunes, fair one," said Oswald, "and we have come to offer you such succour as a dispossessed Saxon can still offer. I fear me it will be but a rude shelter for so gentle a guest. It may be precarious, and subject to alarms, too; but I warrant it shall have a measure of safety, if you will accept of it." "Thank you, my lord. Alas! that is all that I have to offer for your great kindness. I will gladly accept your offer, and I will try not to be altogether a burden to you." "Now, my worthy dame," said Oswald, addressing the ranger's wife, "you have done a good deed in sheltering this lady." "We have but done our duty. She is our lawful mistress. We have fed on her father's bounty, and enjoyed his protection, and the sorrow is to see her brought to this pass." "Where is thy husband?" "He is adown the Gyll on the watch." "Canst thou call him?" "Presently, my lord, if you wish to see him." "Yes, let us see his face. We may be able to befriend him, and he us." The woman reached from the side of the dwelling a small whistle, made from a branch of the plaintain tree, and, going to the door, she blew a low and peculiar note, then listened for a second; but there was no response. Then a little louder she blew the same note. Immediately there came trembling through the wood a response. "He will be here soon," said the woman, coming back to the dwelling. Presently, the ranger pressed through the bushes into the enclosure; in one hand a dish of fine trout dangled on a string, and in the other hand a pheasant. But there was no mark of surprise on Bretwul's countenance as he beheld his visitors. "How now, friend. Thou art not alarmed, I see," said Oswald. "No; I have one eye for the hills, and another for the dales, and I know a Saxon any gait, and my old comrade Badger in any guise."