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42 There was an old castle by a small river, only a short distance from the Mandevilles—the haunt of some half dozen of his more immediate associates—that seemed the very place for an exploit like the one he meditated. His residence in England had taught him the language; and one or two little adventures had given him a high idea of English predilections for foreigners; he therefore came to the conclusion, that if Miss Arundel was a girl of any heart, it never could resist a picturesque banditti chieftain—Salvator Rosa and the Surrey Theatre blended in one. His plan was skilfully laid, and daringly executed. The impression he was to produce was the only erroneous part of his calculations. It was now a little past midnight. "My dear Emily," said Lady Mandeville, "If there were but a castle clock to toll the hour!" "If Lord Mandeville returns home to-night, as we expected, surely he will be able to trace us." "It is upon his efforts I rely. O Heaven! what is that?" as something fell heavily in at the window. It was the extreme stillness that exaggerated the noise; for, when they picked up the cause,