"At heart--yes, Sibyll. Give me thine arm; let us forth and taste the
fresher air."

It was so seldom that Warner could be induced to quit his chamber,
that these words almost startled Sibyll, and she looked anxiously in
his face, as she wiped the dews from his forehead.

"Yes--air--air!" repeated Adam, rising.

Sibyll placed his bonnet over his silvered locks, drew his gown more
closely round him, and slowly and in silence they left the chamber,
and took their way across the court to the ramparts of the fortress-
palace.

The day was calm and genial, with a low but fresh breeze stirring
gently through the warmth of noon. The father and child seated
themselves on the parapet, and saw, below, the gay and numerous
vessels that glided over the sparkling river, while the dark walls of
Baynard's Castle, the adjoining bulwark and battlements of Montfichet,
and the tall watch-tower of Warwick's mighty mansion frowned in the
distance against the soft blue sky. "There," said Adam, quietly, and
pointing to the feudal roofs, "there seems to rise power, and yonder
(glancing to the river), yonder seems to flow Genius! A century or so
hence the walls shall vanish, but the river shall roll on. Man makes
the castle, and founds the power,--God forms the river and creates the
Genius. And yet, Sibyll, there may be streams as broad and stately as
yonder Thames, that flow afar in the waste, never seen, never heard by
man. What profits the river unmarked; what the genius never to be
known?"