n his mistress' shoulder, and apparently
whispered in her ear.

"Sayest thou so?" said the witch. "Then give it to me, Ralph."

The bird held out his beak, and out popped a plain gold ring.

"Give this to thy mother, Dame Buckley. Say 'tis long since they
parted company; and ask if she knows or remembers aught of the Red
Woman. Away!"

She threw the ring towards them. Both stooped to pick it up. They
examined it curiously for a short space.

"'Tis a wedding-ring," said Buckley, "but not to wed bride of mine.
Where was this"----

He stopped short in his inquiry, for lifting up his eyes he found the
donor was gone!

Neither of them saw the least trace of her departure. The stone
whereon she sat was again vacant. All was silent, undisturbed, save
the night breeze that came sighing over the hill, moaning and
whistling through the withered bent and rushes at their feet.

The shadows of evening were now creeping softly around them, and the
valley below was already wrapped in mist. The air felt very chill.
They shuddered, but it was in silence. This fearful vision, for such
it now appeared to have been, filled them with unspeakable dread.

Gervase yet held the ring in his hand. He would have thrown it from
him, but Grace Ashton forbade.

"Do her bidding in this matter," said she. "Give it thy mother, and
ask counsel of the sage and the discreet. There is some fearful
mystery--some evil impending, or my apprehensions are strangely
misled."

They returned, but he was more disturbed than he cared to acknowledge.
He felt as though some spell had been cast upon him, and cowed his
hitherto undaunted spirit.

They again wound down beside the rivulet into the meadows below, where
the mist alone pointed out the course of the stream. The bat and the
beetle crossed their path. Evil things only were abroad. All they saw
and felt seemed to be ominous of the future. As they passed through a
little wicket to the hall-porch, Nicholas Buckley the father met them.

"Why, how now, loiterers? The cushat and the curlew have left the
hill, and yet ye are abroad. 'Tis time the maiden were at home and
looking after the household."

"We've been hindered, good sir. We will just get speech of our dame,
and then away home with the gentle Grace. Half-an-hour's good speeding
will see her safe."

"Ay--belike," said the old man. "Lovers and loiterers make mickle
haste to part. Our dame is with the maids and the milkpans i' the
dairy."