Down they swept across the upper terrace.  Slowly they crossed the greensward, with fairy-like light of firefly to illumine the way; speaking as lovers will, with bated breath.  The wind blew gently now and again, casting a shower of petals upon them as they passed.  When the leaves shone white, the cavalier would say: 

“We are so blessed, nature herself doth sprinkle the bridal path with flowers;”—­or, when there fell a darksome shower, Katherine would press close to her lover’s side and say,—­

“Indeed, Julian, these are petals from those blood-red roses that have hung in such profusion all summer.  It may have some significance.  I believe I must return; ’tis not too late to recede.”

Then the cavalier drew her closer than before, and so tenderly did plead with her, she forgot her fears.  So step by step they neared the thicket where stood the ancient sun-dial that was well-nigh hid with bridal roses.

The Chaplain stood ready; his fragile, pale countenance, hid by the darkness.  There was no faltering now.  Katherine did not think to turn back; that her heart was not with Sir Julian, that she would ever regret this greatest moment in her life, but stood resolute.

The Chaplain began the ceremony at once, and so softly one could scarcely hear a yard away.  Katherine was agitated with the thought that she was really being wedded, and hardly heeded when the Chaplain raised or lowered his voice; appearing almost like one in a dream, so blinded was she with the glamour of her new estate.

At last the Chaplain said the final words, pronouncing the twain as one, and gave his blessing in a somewhat stronger voice that carried in it a note of triumph, and was about to step down from the pedestal of the dial when there flew out from the darkness a young man with drawn sword, who dashed immediately upon the young husband.  Barely had the cavalier time to draw aside his wife, and drawing his sword as he did so, when his de trop guest made a fierce attack upon him.  The young husband cried out as he met the thrust,—­

“Nay, nay, nay, by God nay!” It appeared his antagonist was becalmed of speech, for he answered not but struggled to do so.  Failing to find his voice, however, he gave a lunge, which was met by a parry that made him mad, and for a moment ground his teeth as fiercely as he wielded his sword.  The young cavalier threw himself on guard in carte, which sent his opponent to giving such thrusts that quickly betrayed his lack of skill and also his deadly intentions.  These were met by quick parries.  Then the mad antagonist made a sweeping bend and thrust at the cavalier’s heart.  This was met with a disengage.  The mad youth, well spent with anger and want of breath, broke out pantingly,—­

“Thou wouldst play the honourable as thou playest the part of Sir Ju—­” His last word was cut short by a quick thrust of steel that felled him to the sward.  Mistress Katherine stood as if frozen, her hands held tightly in those of the Chaplain, who whispered that it might cost her husband his life should she interfere.  He also assured her, saying that the adversary was no swordsman, as she herself soon saw.  Some one came running from the castle at the same time Katherine knelt beside the fallen man.  But her husband whispered quickly,—­