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STORY OF FITZALAN.

bundle of ſtraw, almoſt rotten with age. “This, Sir,” ſaid Walter, pointing to it with a malignant ſmile, “is your bed; I hope you will approve of it. We will leave you to your meditations; you will be but ſeldom diſturbed, I promiſe you.”

“Baſe, daſtardly ſlave!” exclaimed Fitzalan, his eyes flaming with indignation. With a contemptuous ſneer, Walter and his comrade now quitted the dungeon; and as, they faſtened the bolts, harſh and ruſty from the lapſe of years, Fitzalan felt his heart die within him. He flung himſelf on the bed of ſtraw, in a ſtate of mind nearly allied to phrenzy–a thouſand tender recollections preſented themſelves to him, and every one of them contributed to render his preſent ſituation more horrible: torn, for ever, from his Edith! from his Edwin! manacled in a dungeon! and, perhaps, on the verge of death; not a ray of hope illumined the dreary proſpect: before him: “Gracious heaven!” he exclaimed, “if I had been doomed to fall in the fair face of day, on the field of glory, I had indeed been bleſt: but, to be thus immured and ſhackled! fated, too, to periſh by the hand of ſome vile aſſaſſin, inglorious and unrevenged! thus to fall, and from thoſe it is too much for mortal endurance.” In exclamations like this, of mingled grief and indignation, Fitzalan gave utterance to his feelings. Yet, diſaſtrous as his preſent ſituation was, the thought of the ſorrow which his Edith would ſuffer from his loſs, gave him a thouſand times more unſufferable agony than the dangers to which he was expoſed. Walter and Hugo, after having ſecured Fitzalan, proceeded to give the baron an account of the ſucceſs of their miſſion.

They found him waiting for them with the utmoſt impatience. “Well, my truſty friends,” exclaimed he, the inſtant they appeared, “is Fitzalan in my power beyond the poſſibility of eſcape?”" “He is, my Lord,” anſwered Walter, “as ſafe as locks, bolts, and the dungeon under the north tower, can keep him.” “The north tower! the north tower! repeated the baron in a hurried tone, preſſing his hands forcibly againſt his fore-