r out. Wisdom, indeed, moved him to be
gone; but love and curiosity were stronger.

Time passed slowly for the young man, bolt upright behind the arras. The
fire in the room began to die down, and the lamp to burn low and to
smoke. And still there was no word of the return of any one to these
upper quarters of the house; still the faint hum and clatter of the
supper party sounded from far below; and still, under the thick fall of
the snow, Shoreby town lay silent upon every side.

At length, however, feet and voices began to draw near upon the stair;
and presently after several of Sir Daniel's guests arrived upon the
landing, and, turning down the corridor, beheld the torn arras and the
body of the spy.

Some ran forward and some back, and all together began to cry aloud.

At the sound of their cries, guests, men-at-arms, ladies, servants, and,
in a word, all the inhabitants of that great house, came flying from
every direction, and began to join their voices to the tumult.

Soon a way was cleared, and Sir Daniel came forth in person, followed by
the bridegroom of the morrow, my Lord Shoreby.

"My lord," said Sir Daniel, "have I not told you of this knave Black
Arrow? To the proof, behold it! There it stands, and, by the rood, my
gossip, in a man of yours, or one that stole your colours!"

"In good sooth, it was a man of mine," replied Lord Shoreby, hanging
back. "I would I had more such. He was keen as a beagle and secret as a
mole."

"Ay, gossip, truly?" asked Sir Daniel, keenly. "And what came he
smelling up so many stairs in my poor mansion? But he will smell no
more."

"An't please you, Sir Daniel," said one, "here is a paper written upon
with some matter, pinned upon his breast."

"Give it me, arrow and all," said the knight. And when he had taken into
his hand the shaft, he continued for some time to gaze upon it in a
sullen musing. "Ay," he said, addressing Lord Shoreby, "here is a hate
that followeth hard and close upon my heels. This black stick, or its
just likeness, shall yet bring me down. And, gossip, suffer a plain
knight to counsel you; and if these hounds begin to wind you, flee! 'Tis
like a sickness--it still hangeth, hangeth upon the limbs. But let us
see what they have written. It is as I thought, my lord; y'are marked,
like an old oak, by the woodman; to-morrow or next day, by will come the
axe. But what wrote ye in a letter?"

Lord Shoreby snatched the paper from the arrow, read it, cr