“Did they speak to you?” demanded the other.

“Yes,” replied Wilton, “they asked me some questions.”

“Oh, was that all?” said the man.  “Good night, sir;” and on the two rode.

At the finger-post, Wilton turned from the highway; but for some time he was inclined to fancy, either that he had mistaken the direction, or that the light had been put out in the cottage window, for not the least glimmering ray could he now see.  At length, on suddenly turning a belt of young planting, he found himself in front of a low but extensive and very pretty cottage, or rather perhaps it might be called two cottages joined together by a centre somewhat lower than themselves.  It was more like a building of the present day than one of that epoch; and though the beautiful China rose, the sweetest ornament of our cottage doors at present, was not then known in this country, a rich spreading vine covered every part of the front with its luxuriant foliage.  The light was still in the window, having only been hidden by the trees; and throwing his rein to the groom, Wilton said,—­

“Perhaps we may find shelter here for the night; but I must first go in, and see.”

Thus saying, he advanced and rang a bell, the handle of which he found hanging down by the door-post, and after having waited a minute or two, he heard the sound of steps coming along the passage.  The door was opened by a pretty, neat, servant girl, with a candle in her hand; but behind her stood a woman considerably advanced in life, bowed in the back, and with a stick in her hand, presenting so much altogether the same appearance which the Lady Helen Oswald had thought fit to assume in her first interview with him, that for an instant Wilton doubted whether it was or was not herself.  A second glance, however, at the old woman’s face, showed the withering hand of time too strongly for him to doubt any farther.

The momentary suspense had made him gaze at the old woman intently, and she had certainly done the same with regard to him.  There was an expression of wonder, of doubt, and yet of joy, in her countenance, which he did not at all understand; and his surprise was still more increased, when, upon his asking whether he could there obtain shelter during the night, the woman exclaimed with a strong Irish accent, “Oh, that you shall, and welcome a thousand times!”

“But I have two horses and my groom here,” replied Wilton.

“Oh, for the horses and the groom,” replied the woman, “I fear me, boy, we can’t take them in for ye; but he can go away up to the high road, and in half a mile he’ll come to the Three Cups, where he will find good warm stabling enough.”

“That will be the best way, I believe,” replied Wilton; and turning back to speak with the man for a moment, he gave him directions to go to the little public house, to put up the horses, to get some repose, and to be ready to return to London at four o’clock on the following morning.