The early sun was bright and warm, the air clear, the scenery exquisite; every one felt in grand spirits as they trotted down the narrow defile through cornfields and hemp-fields, with the river Cervaro gushing by. Soon the mountains, so steep as to seem inaccessible, closed nearer in, dense woods on either side of acacia and other trees almost shut out the daylight. When they were perhaps more than half way through, a pistol-shot resounded through the woods! In an instant the postilions drew up their horses with a loud cry--"The bandits--the bandits--the Vardarelli--we are undone!"[D] "Drive on, drive on, for the love of heaven," cried Mr. Lennox, pale with fear--but his voice was unheard. Another pistol-shot resounded, and this close by; its aim was fatal to the foremost postilion, who fell a corpse off his terrified horse. The other man leapt down and fled into the woods like a hare. William leapt out too, and drawing his sword whirled it round his head, crying to their guards to fight, to do their duty, and defend his sister! Alas! the guards were not there--they too had disappeared! He now looked despairingly for aid; his father, poor old man, was white as a sheet, and trembling with fear held the pistol cocked in one hand, and supported Caroline, who was in a dead swoon, in the other. The postilions--one was dead, the other flown! What should he do to save his family from their as yet unseen foe? A thought struck him, he would drive on! Just as he was about to put his thought into execution, and drive on the horses, which stood as if petrified too--a confused sound of trampling of steeds--oaths of men, clashing of arms--rose on every side, and as if by magic the carriage was surrounded by at least forty brigands. One, a dark-looking man, but evidently not a native, was conspicuous from the coal-black steed he bestrode, and his commanding manner. This was Luigi Vardarelli. Near him rode another singularly resembling him: this was Adrian Vardarelli; he saw another there he least expected to see--their friend the Count, of last evening! Close to this man rode two others, their quondam guardians! The remaining robbers were all fierce, bloodthirsty looking men. All this was seen in a moment by the unfortunate youth. He saw they were betrayed--he saw his death was near--and with a high resolve we could scarcely have thought the young man capable of feeling, he determined to try and save his father and sister by self-devotion. "Gentlemen," he cried in Italian, "you could not hurt my aged parent, nor helpless sister! I think too highly of you--you are too noble to do so! take all we have--take me--and have your vengeance on my head, but spare my father,--spare my sister! You too, sir," addressing the false Count, "who have shared our hospitality, turn not your hand against them."