“Let it remain an instant on the ground,” said Alice, as the Master stooped to raise it; “and believe me, that piece of gold is an emblem of her whom you love; she is as precious, I grant, but you must stoop even to abasement before you can win her.  For me, I have as little to do with gold as with earthly passions; and the best news that the world has in store for me is, that Edgar Ravenswood is an hundred miles distant from the seat of his ancestors, with the determination never again to behold it.”

“Alice,” said the Master, who began to think this earnestness had some more secret cause than arose from anything that the blind woman could have gathered from this casual visit, “I have heard you praised by my mother for your sense, acuteness, and fidelity; you are no fool to start at shadows, or to dread old superstitious saws, like Caleb Balderstone; tell me distinctly where my danger lies, if you are aware of any which is tending towards me.  If I know myself, I am free from all such views respecting Miss Ashton as you impute to me.  I have necessary business to settle with Sir William; that arranged, I shall depart, and with as little wish, as you may easily believe, to return to a place full of melancholy subjects of reflection, as you have to see me here.”  Alice bent her sightless eyes on the ground, and was for some time plunged in deep meditation.  “I will speak the truth,” she said at length, raising up her head—­“I will tell you the source of my apprehensions, whether my candour be for good or for evil.  Lucy Ashton loves you, Lord of Ravenswood!”

“It is impossible,” said the Master.

“A thousand circumstances have proved it to me,” replied the blind woman.  “Her thoughts have turned on no one else since you saved her from death, and that my experienced judgment has won from her own conversation.  Having told you this—­if you are indeed a gentleman and your father’s son—­you will make it a motive for flying from her presence.  Her passion will die like a lamp for want of that the flame should feed upon; but, if you remain here, her destruction, or yours, or that of both, will be the inevitable consequence of her misplaced attachment.  I tell you this secret unwillingly, but it could not have been hid long from your own observation, and it is better you learn it from mine.  Depart, Master of Ravenswood; you have my secret.  If you remain an hour under Sir William Ashton’s roof without the resolution to marry his daughter, you are a villain; if with the purpose of allying yourself with kin, you are an infatuated and predestined fool.”

So saying, the old blind woman arose, assumed her staff, and, tottering to her hut, entered it and closed the door, leaving Ravenswood to his own reflections.

CHAPTER XX.

Lovelier in her own retired abode ....than Naiad by the side Of Grecian brook—­or Lady of the Mere Lone sitting by the shores of old romance.

     Wordsworth.