ave wished to stay him; and pushing on, had found Margaret
sitting in the hall, who had looked up at him, and then covered her
face with her hands, and he had seen a look of anguish upon her face.
Then the dream had slipped from him, and he dreamed again that he was
in a lonely place, a bleak mountain-top, with a wide plain spread out
beneath; and he had watched the flight of two white birds, which
seemed to rise from the rocks near him, and fly swiftly away, beating
their wings in the waste of air.

He woke troubled, and found the dawn peeping through the chinks of
the shutter; and soon he heard the tramping of horses without, and
knew that he must rise and go. And the thought of the dream dwelt
heavily with him; but presently, riding in the cool air, it seemed to
him that his fears were foolish; and his love came back to him, so
that he said the name Margaret over many times to himself, like a
charm, and sent his thoughts forward, imagining how Margaret, newly
risen, would be moving about the quiet house, perhaps expecting him.
And then he sang a little to himself, and was pleased to see the old
man-at-arms smile wearily as he rode beside him.

Three days after he rode into the Castle of Wresting at sundown, and
was greeted very lovingly; the Duke would not let him sing that night,
though Paul said he was willing; but after dinner he asked him many
questions of how he had fared. And Paul hoped that he might have heard
some talk of the Lady Margaret. But none spoke of her, and he dared
not ask. One thing that he noticed was that at dinner the young Sir
Richard de Benoit sate opposite him, looking very pale; and Paul, more
than once, looking up suddenly, saw that the Knight was regarding him
very fixedly, as though he were questioning of somewhat; and that each
time Sir Richard dropped his eyes as though he were ashamed. After
dinner was over, and Paul had been discharged by the Duke, he had gone
back into the hall to see if he could have speech of Sir Richard, and
ask if anything ailed him; but he found him not.

Then on the morrow, as soon as he might, he made haste to go down to
the Isle of Thorns. As he was crossing a glade, not far from the
house, he saw to his surprise, far down the glade, a figure riding on
a horse, who seemed for a moment to be Sir Richard himself. He stood
awhile to consider, and then, going down the glade, he cried out to
him. Sir Richard, who was on a white horse, drew rein, and turned with