That this pass led to any inhabited district was little probable, for
it grew wilder and wilder, appearing to lead to the very heart of the
Sierra Toledo--a huge ridge traversing Spain. By human foot it had
evidently been seldom trod; yet on this particular evening a traveller
there wended his solitary way. His figure was slight to boyishness,
but of fair proportion, and of such graceful agility of movement,
that the obstacles in his path, which to others of stouter mould and
heavier step might have been of serious inconvenience, appeared by him
as unnoticed as unfelt. The deep plume of his broad-rimmed hat could
not conceal the deep blue restless eyes, the delicate complexion, and
rich brown clustering hair; the varying expression of features, which
if not regularly handsome, were bright with intelligence and
truth, and betraying like a crystal mirror every impulse of the
heart--characteristics both of feature and disposition wholly
dissimilar to the sons of Spain.
His physiognomy told truth. Arthur Stanley was, as his name implied,
an Englishman of noble family; one of the many whom the disastrous
wars of the Roses had rendered voluntary exiles. His father and four
brothers had fallen in battle at Margaret's side. Himself and a twin
brother, when scarcely fifteen, were taken prisoners at Tewkesbury,
and for three years left to languish in prison.
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