At length, he heard footsteps approaching, and, with a beating heart, distinguished the voice of Viviana.

The place was buried in profound darkness; but Oldcorne struck a light, and set fire to a candle in a lantern.

The feeble glimmer diffused by it was not sufficient to penetrate the recesses of the cavern; and Catesby, who stood at the farther extremity, was completely sheltered from observation.
"And now, father," observed Viviana, seating herself with her back towards Catesby, upon the stone bench once used by the unfortunate prophetess, "I would learn the communication you desire to make to me.
It must be something of importance since you would not disclose it at the Hall." "It is, daughter," replied Oldcorne, who could scarcely conceal his embarrassment.

"I have brought you hither, where I am sure we shall be uninterrupted, to confer with you on a subject nearest my heart.

Your lamented father being taken from us, I, as his spiritual adviser, aware of his secret wishes and intentions, conceive myself entitled to assume his place." "I consider you in the light of a father, dear sir," replied Viviana, "and will follow your advice as implicitly as I would that of him I have lost." "Since I find you so tractable, child," returned Oldcorne, reassured by her manner, "I will no longer hesitate to declare the motive I had in bringing you hither.