fears, as altogether to derange his purposed ceremonial for the reception of the Marquis.
These feelings of apprehension were not confined to Sir William Ashton. "It is my mother—it is my mother," said Lucy, turning as pale as ashes, and clasping her hands together as she looked at Ravenswood.
"And if it be Lady Ashton," said her lover to her in a low tone, "what can be the occasion of such alarm?—Surely the return of a lady to the family from which she has been so long absent, should excite other sensations than those of fear and dismay."
"You do not know my mother," said Miss Ashton, in a tone almost breathless with terror; "what will she say when she sees you in this place!"
"My stay is too long," said Ravenswood somewhat haughtily, "if her displeasure at my presence is like to be so formidable. My dear Lucy," he resumed, in a tone of
