the Master of Ravenswood renounced his feudal enmity, and threw himself without hesitation upon his forgiveness.  His eyes glistened as he looked upon a couple who were obviously becoming attached, and who seemed made for each other.  He thought how high the proud and chivalrous character of Ravenswood might rise under many circumstances in which he found himself “overcrowed,” to use a phrase of Spenser, and kept under, by his brief pedigree, and timidity of disposition.  Then his daughter—­his favorite child—­his constant playmate—­seemed formed to live happy in a union with such a commanding spirit as Ravenswood; and even the fine, delicate, fragile form of Lucy Ashton seemed to require the support of the Master’s muscular strength and masculine character.  And it was not merely during a few minutes that Sir William Ashton looked upon their marriage as a probable and even desirable event, for a full hour intervened ere his imagination was crossed by recollection of the Master’s poverty, and the sure displeasure of Lady Ashton.  It is certain, that the very unusual flow of kindly feeling with which the Lord Keeper had been thus surprised, was one of the circumstances which gave much tacit encouragement to the attachment between the Master and his daughter, and led both the lovers distinctly to believe that it was a connexion which would be most agreeable to him.  He himself was supposed to have admitted this in effect, when, long after the catastrophe of their love, he used to warn his hearers against permitting their feelings to obtain an ascendency over their judgment, and affirm, that the greatest misfortune of his life was owing to a very temporary predominance of sensibility over self-interest.  It must be owned, if such was the case, he was long and severely punished for an offence of very brief duration.

After some pause, the Lord Keeper resumed the conversation.—­

“In your surprise at finding me an honester man than you expected, you have lost your curiosity about this Craigengelt, my good Master; and yet your name was brought in, in the course of that matter too.”

“The scoundrel!” said Ravenswood.  “My connexion with him was of the most temporary nature possible; and yet I was very foolish to hold any communication with him at all.  What did he say of me?”

“Enough,” said the Keeper, “to excite the very loyal terrors of some of our sages, who are for proceeding against men on the mere grounds of suspicion or mercenary information.  Some nonsense about your proposing to enter into the service of France, or of the Pretender, I don’t recollect which, but which the Marquis of A——­, one of your best friends, and another person, whom some call one of your worst and most interested enemies, could not, somehow, be brought to listen to.”

“I am obliged to my honourable friend; and yet,” shaking the Lord Keeper’s hand—­“and yet I am still more obliged to my honourable enemy.”