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CHAPTER IV.
"A careless set they were, in whose bold hands
Swords were like toys."
That transient but most lovely hour which follows the sunset was now melting away in the far recesses of the forest. A few gleams of richer hues still lingered in some of the crimson clouds which yet treasured up a sunbeam; but the great expanse was filled with that pure and pale purple, so soon to merge in deeper gloom, or to tremble into silvery light beneath the radiant and rising moon. The glorious dyes of autumn—autumn, that comes in like a conqueror, but departs like a mourner—were upon the boughs, but lost in that undistinguishing light which subdued all things with its own gentle tinting.
Again, in that little lonely glade, which to them was as a temple, Lucy met that young cavalier, now full of the excitement of his adven-
