ust travelled;
and then, as if the effort had been too much for him, he fell back
panting upon the turf.

Sir George Vernon waited for no more, but hastily bestriding his
saddle, he galloped away, bidding the others disperse again upon their
search. Only Sir Thomas Stanley and one solitary retainer remained,
and these from very different reasons; the former because he suspected
foul play, and wished for the immediate future to have De la Zouch
under his own eye; and the latter, much against his will, was
constrained to tarry behind to help the unfortunate nobleman back to
Haddon.

"Twenty nobles for the man who finds my Dorothy," shouted the baron as
he rode off, "and twice twenty if there has been any knavery and the
rogues are caught"; and as the knight of Ashby heard the sound of
the galloping grow fainter he was fain to own himself so far only
partially successful, and as he was lifted up to be carried away, he
shut his eyes and ruminated on the probable present condition of his
captives, and wondered where they were.

Dorothy soon awoke from the swoon into which she had fallen on seeing
the prostrate condition of her lover, and being graciously permitted
by the page to have a considerable amount of liberty, she soon busied
herself in trying to restore Manners to consciousness.

Eustace, the page in question, had judged her aright. There was
little fear now of her attempting to escape. Indeed, the thought never
entered into her head; her whole attention was concentrated upon the
one effort of restoring her lover to consciousness, and even the heart
of the hardest of the rough men around her was softened by the picture
of grief which she presented.

At last John Manners opened his eyes, and as he caught sight of
Dorothy's tear-stained face bending over him, he smiled. His smile
dispelled all Dorothy's fears, as the rising sun dispels the morning
mist, and through her grief she smiled responsively back upon her
lover.

Eustace witnessed his recovery with a profound sense of relief. It was
in ignorance of the plot that he had been inveigled to obey his lord's
behests, for though at Haddon De la Zouch had acquainted him with
a part of the conspiracy, yet he had grossly deceived him. He had
informed him that it was Dorothy Vernon's wish to flee to Ashby,
and it was not until he was undeceived by the conduct of the maiden
herself that the fullness of his master's treachery revealed itself to
him.

True, he had