Theodore went pensively to the convent, to acquaint his father with
his deliverance. There he learned the absence of Jerome, and the
pursuit that was making after the Lady Isabella, with some
particulars of whose story he now first became acquainted. The
generous gallantry of his nature prompted him to wish to assist
her; but the Monks could lend him no lights to guess at the route
she had taken. He was not tempted to wander far in search of her,
for the idea of Matilda had imprinted itself so strongly on his
heart, that he could not bear to absent himself at much distance
from her abode. The tenderness Jerome had expressed for him
concurred to confirm this reluctance; and he even persuaded himself
that filial affection was the chief cause of his hovering between
the castle and monastery.

Until Jerome should return at night, Theodore at length determined
to repair to the forest that Matilda had pointed out to him.
Arriving there, he sought the gloomiest shades, as best suited to
the pleasing melancholy that reigned in his mind. In this mood he
roved insensibly to the caves which had formerly served as a
retreat to hermits, and were now reported round the country to be
haunted by evil spirits. He recollected to have heard this
tradition; and being of a brave and adventurous disposition, he
willingly indulged his curiosity in exploring the secret recesses
of this labyrinth. He had not penetrated far before he thought he
heard the steps of some person who seemed to retreat before him.

Theodore, though firmly grounded in all our holy faith enjoins to
be believed, had no apprehension that good men were abandoned
without cause to the malice of the powers of darkness. He thought
the place more likely to be infested by robbers than by those