All was unexpected and all was
unaccountable. Imogen had remained without consciousness from the very
beginning of the storm, and it was during her insensibility that the
goblin had been visible, and the magician descended to the plains. She
found herself mounted upon a car, and hurried along by rapid steeds. She
saw beside her a man whose face, whose garb, and whose whole appearance
were perfectly unknown to her.
"Ah," exclaimed the maiden, in a voice of amazement apprehension, "where
am I? What is become of my Edwin? And what art thou? What means all
this? These are not the well-known fields; this is not the brook of
Towey, nor these hills of Clwyd. Oh, whither, whither do we fly? This
track leads not to the cottage of my parents, and the groves of
Rhyddlan." "Be not uneasy, my fair one," answered Roderic. "We go,
though not by the usual path, to where your friends reside. I am not
your enemy, but a swain who esteems it his happiness to have come
between you and your distress, and to have rescued you from the pelting
of the storm. Suspend, my love, for a few moments your suspicions and
your anxiety, and we shall arrive where all your doubts will be removed,
and all I hope will be pleasure and felicitation." While he thus spoke
the chariot hastened to the conclusion of their journey, and entered the
area in the front of the mansion of Roderic.
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