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340 presently in the lone and shadowy depths of the woods: the dark recesses, only visible when a withered tree let the moonlight through its leafless branches, or the white stem of a cork-tree, from which the bark had been stripped, contrasted the sombre trunks around. A young man with much less of poetry in his temperament than Lorraine possessed, would have felt all the romance of his nature rise in such a solitude. But whatever romantic fantasies the traveller might have felt disposed to indulge, his visions were all disturbed by realities. A cry, as if of sudden terror, rose upon the air. Edward listened attentively, and fancied he discerned the plunging of horses. Without hesitation he rode to the spot, and distinctly heard a voice, apparently in tones of entreaty and lament. A sudden turn in the road brought him to the objects of his search. Two mules stood by a tree, at whose foot lay a man, either dead or insensible; and kneeling beside was a young cavalier, muffled in a large riding cloak. To dismount and offer his assistance was the work of a moment. Fear seemed almost to have deprived the kneeling youth of articulation: he