father's house?—is it an omen?" She wished to hurry through the Gothic space, complaining of the cold, to the discontent of both father and brother, especially the latter, who delighted in the legends attached to every weapon or scutcheon on the wall. They forgot that the early associations which had made their interest were blanks to Francesca; but her indifference was quite enough to put them out of temper—and both were too self-willed to conceal it. In the mean time, unconscious of her offence, poor Francesca could only wonder within herself at the change in their manner, and assign it to every cause but the right one.
She was conducted to her own apartment; and as she braided back her hair and changed her dress, it was well for her that the young waiting-maid appointed to attend her was more alive to the duties of the toilette than her mistress: for, depressed and bewildered, Francesca scarcely knew what she was doing. Still, when she entered the supper-room, no longer muffled up in her riding-hood and cloak, though pale, and her eyes heavy with unshed tears, neither Lord Avonleigh nor his son could restrain an exclamation of delight at her exceeding beauty. Albert's good humour, too, was completely restored; for the falcon, alluded to at an earlier period of the narrative, had been
