as you wish, my own true knight; yet I almost feel that I am too
happy. May God bless and protect us!"

Thus passed this bright day, until the approach of dusk imperatively
compelled the enraptured lovers to separate. The knight had urgent
business to settle, early on the morrow, at his own castle, before
setting out for London, to announce to the king the day fixed for the
espousal, and to beg from the monarch the fulfilment of the promise he
had made, to be present in person with his court, at the wedding of his
gallant and faithful vassal. The knight was therefore forced to depart
ere the gloom advanced; for though his journey lay in a friendly and
peaceful country, it was not the habit in those days to be abroad much
after dusk, without an efficient escort.

Sir Ralph reluctantly quitted his betrothed: he made his escape moreover
from the baron and the chaplain, who prayed his further tarrying, to
share in another flagon of Rhenish about to be produced. The horse and
dog were at the porch, and, in a few minutes, the knight had passed the
drawbridge, and was in the same fair road again.

"I have known Sir Ralph from his birth," observed the baron to the
chaplain, "and I love him as my own son. The king may well come here to
see him wedded; for he has not a nobler, braver, or more generous knight
within his realm."

"Truly, Sir Baron, he is endowed with much excellence," replied the
priest; "I do greatly admire his strong denunciation against the Templars
and other warlike orders, who tolerate the protracted existence of that
band of murderers in the past who have their daggers ever pointed
against the sons of the Church. Sir Ralph speaks on this subject like a
true soldier of the Cross."

"Very true," retorted the baron, "yet I wish our chevaliers would cease
to think of foreign broils and questions, and attend to affairs at home.
This Rhenish is perfect: after all, wine is the only thing really good
that originates beyond our seas."

Their discourse had scarcely proceeded farther, when it was suddenly
interrupted by the loud howling and barking of a dog. The baron and the
chaplain started up. "It is Leo, Sir Ralph's dog," exclaimed the former,
"what in God's name can be the matter?" and the two rushed out.

The Lady Alianore, at her orisons above, heard the same terrible howl and
bark. She instantly descended to the courtyard; as she came there, the
outer gate was opened, and Leo, the knight's dog, flew past