It was a cavalier, holding by the rein a horse richly caparisoned; and though his dress was plainer and less exaggerated than that usually worn by men of rank, its materials were those which the sumptuary laws (constantly broken, indeed, as such laws ever must be) confined to nobles.

Though his surcoat was but of cloth, and the colour dark and sober, it was woven in foreign looms,--an unpatriotic luxury, above the degree of knight,--and edged deep with the costliest sables.

The hilt of the dagger, suspended round his breast, was but of ivory, curiously wrought, but the scabbard was sown with large pearls.

For the rest, the stranger was of ordinary stature, well knit and active rather than powerful, and of that age (about thirty-five) which may be called the second prime of man.

His face was far less handsome than Marmaduke Nevile's, but infinitely more expressive, both of intelligence and command,--the features straight and sharp, the complexion clear and pale, and under the bright gray eyes a dark shade spoke either of dissipation or of thought.
"What ailest thou, maiden,--weepest thou some faithless lover?
Tush! love renews itself in youth, as flower succeeds flower in spring." Sibyll made no reply; she rose and moved a few paces, then arrested her steps, and looked around her.