His sole weapon was a stout quarter-staff. After some little
hesitation Mabel consented to accompany the falconer, and they set
forth together.
The evening was delightful, and their way through the woods was
marked by numberless points of beauty. Mabel said little, for her
thoughts were running upon her grandfather, and upon his prolonged
and mysterious absence; but the falconer talked of the damage done by
the thunderstorm, which he declared was the most awful he had ever
witnessed; and he pointed out to her several trees struck by the
lightning. Proceeding in this way, they gained a road leading from
Blacknest, when, from behind a large oak, the trunk of which had
concealed him from view, Morgan Fenwolf started forth, and planted
himself in their path. The gear of the proscribed keeper was wild and
ragged, his locks matted and disordered, his demeanour savage, and
his whole appearance forbidding and alarming.
"I have been waiting for you for some time, Mabel Lyndwood," he said.
"You must go with me to your grandfather."
"My grandfather would never send you for me," replied Mabel; "but if he
did, I will not trust myself with you."
"The saints preserve us!" cried Nicholas Clamp.
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