of them had
discovered a trace, and good Father Nicholas had found it a difficult
task under the circumstances to revive the drooping spirit of his
master.

"No luck, Sir Thomas, naught but ill news," said the baron, as he
replied to his friend's greeting; "'tis an ill wind this. There is
never a trace as yet, and----"

"Hist!" interrupted Margaret's lover. "I hear the sounds of galloping
hoofs."

Sir George opened the casement window, and peered out into the gloom.

"I cannot see them yet," he exclaimed, "but there are more than one,
and they are nearing fast. If it should be Dorothy," he said with a
sigh of intense feeling; "what joy!"

"Aye, there are more than one," said Stanley. "We cannot see them
here. Hark, they are thundering at the gate even now; let us go and
meet them, and heaven grant, whoever it may be, that they bring good
news."

"Amen," ejaculated the baron fervently, and his prayer was echoed by
the rest.

Before they could reach the gate, the horseman had been admitted;
and as Sir George and his friends stepped into the yard they
recognised--not the features of Sir Edward Stanley, as Margaret's
lover secretly thought, but the well-known form of Manners.

"How!--by my halidame, what meaneth this?" exclaimed the baron,
delighted beyond measure to see the esquire again. "Tell me, Manners,
where my Dorothy is?"

"Speak fair words," cautioned Stanley, with a frown.

"Dorothy!" gasped her lover. "Hasten, I beseech thee. She is at Ashby.
Where is De la Zouch, the villain?"

"On his way home," answered Sir Thomas.

Manners groaned aloud.

"Heaven forfend us, then," he cried. "He is a monster of iniquity. We
must hasten back, an you would rescue Dorothy."

"There is some conspiracy in this," exclaimed Stanley. "Here is De la
Zouch's page lurking behind these horses. Come hither, sirrah, for I
recognise thee well. 'Twere a bold thing of thee to venture on so rash
an errand here."

Eustace was pushed unwillingly forward, and as he stood before the
knight his knees knocked together under the terrible frowns that were
bestowed upon him.

"Nay, it is right," expostulated Manners. "Leave him alone, Sir
Thomas, he will be of service to us yet."

"But where is Dorothy?" asked the impatient baron. "What has become of
her? Why does she not return with thee?"

"De la Zouch waylaid us," answered the esquire, "and we fell into his
trap. I have ridden hard from Ashby since the sun last set. I escap