s, that I have escaped, by the aid of this damsel, from the clutches
of the demon. Our escape was effected on horseback, and we had to plunge
into the lake. The immersion deprived my fair preserver of sensibility,
so that as soon as I landed, and gained a covert where I fancied
myself secure, I dismounted, and tried to restore her. While I was thus
occupied, the steed I had brought with me broke his bridle, and darted
off into the woods. After a while, Mabel opened her eyes, but she was so
weak that she could not move, and I was fain to make her a couch in the
fern, in the hope that she would speedily revive. But the fright and
suffering had been too much for her, and a succession of fainting-fits
followed, during which I thought she would expire. This is all. Now, let
us prepare a litter for her, and convey her where proper assistance can
be rendered."

Meanwhile, the others had come up, and Hugh Dacre, flinging himself from
his horse, and pushing Surrey somewhat rudely aside, advanced towards
Mabel, and, taking her hand, said, in a voice of some emotion, "Alas!
poor girl! I did not expect to meet thee again in this state."

"You knew her, then?" said Surrey.

Dacre muttered an affirmative.

"Who is this man?" asked Wyat of the earl.

"I know him not," answered Surrey. "He joined us on the road hither."

"I am well known to Sir Thomas Wyat," replied Dacre, in a significant
tone, "as he will avouch when I recall certain matters to his mind. But
do not let us lose time here. This damsel claims our first attention.
She must be conveyed to a place of safety, and where she can be well
tended. We can then return to search for Herne."

Upon this, a litter of branches were speedily made, and Mabel being laid
upon it, the simple conveyance was sustained by four of the archers.
The little cavalcade then quitted the thicket, and began to retrace its
course towards the castle. Wyat had been accommodated with a horse by
one of the archers, and rode in a melancholy manner by the side of the
litter.

They had got back nearly as far as the brow of Spring Hill, when a
horseman, in a wild garb, and mounted on a coal black steed, lashed
suddenly and at a furious pace, out of the trees on the right. He
made towards the litter, over-turning Sir Thomas Wyat, and before any
opposition could be offered him, seized the inanimate form of Mabel, and
placing her before him on his steed, dashed off as swiftly as he came,
and with a burst