came, the horse drooping its head and stumbling in its pace, as
though worn out with fatigue, but he saw that it was a war-horse, and
the saddle and other equipments were such as he well remembered in
the royal army long ago. The rider wore buff coat, cuirass,
gauntlets guarded with steel, sword, and pistols, and Walter's first
impulse was to avoid him; but on giving a second glance, he changed
his mind, for though there was neither scarf, plume, nor any badge of
party, the long locks, the set of the hat, and the general air of the
soldier were not those of a rebel. He must be a cavalier, but, alas!
far unlike the triumphant cavaliers whom Walter had hoped to receive,
for he was covered with dust and blood, as if he had fought and
ridden hard. Walter sprung forward to meet him, and saw that he was
a young man, with dark eyes and hair, looking very pale and
exhausted, and both he and his horse seemed hardly able to stir a
step further.

"Young sir," said the stranger, "what place is this? Am I near
Forest Lea?"

A flash of joy crossed Walter. "Edmund! are you Edmund?" he
exclaimed, colouring deeply, and looking up in his face with one
quick glance, then casting down his eyes.

"And you are little Walter," returned the cavalier, instantly
dismounting, and flinging his arm around his brother; "why, what a
fine fellow you are grown! How are my mother and all?"

"Well, quite well!" cried Walter, in a transport of joy. "Oh! how
happy she will be! Come, make haste home!"