Dim twilight was on all the plain, darkness in the wood, when Richard Barrington and Seth tied their horses to a tree and awaited the coming of Jeanne St. Clair at the wood end.  Ever the first to catch the fire from the upcoming day, the summits of the great double mountain which dominated the country blushed a faint rose color which each instant glowed brighter and clearer, and then peak after peak was caught by the same rose flush, and light, like a gracious benediction, fell slowly into valley and gorge, while myriad shades of color pulsated into new life in earth and sky.  The two men watched this magic beauty of the dawn in silence.  So wondrous was it, so majestic, so far beyond the schemes and thoughts of insignificant man, that it was almost impossible not to see in it some portent, something of promise or warning.  Even Seth, practical and farseeing as he was, forgot the actualities of life for a little space, while Richard’s dreams took flight into that upper world of rosy flame and forgot the deep valleys, dark with difficulty and danger.  This new day which was being born was perfect, with a beauty his eyes had never seen before; the woman he waited for was perfect, too, a revelation.  She and the dawn filled his soul.  They were more real than anything past, present, or to come, and his being sang a Te Deum of thanksgiving.

“She should be here,” he said, turning to Seth and speaking in a hushed voice without knowing that he did so.

Seth laid his hand sharply upon his arm, and pointed through the trees to the road which came down to the plain from Beauvais.  Four men were approaching, walking quickly and talking together.  They came straight towards the end of the wood as men having a purpose.

“Quick!  The horses!” said Barrington.  “Draw back farther into the wood and let them pass.”

Holding their horses, and hidden among the trees, they watched the men come to the spot where they had been a moment or two before.  Here they stopped, looked round on every side and listened.

“They are looking for us,” Seth whispered.  “It may be the lady cannot come and has sent them to tell us so.”

“Four of them!” Barrington said.

He did not move.  These men were not lackeys, they were gentlemen.  Barrington wondered whether they had chosen this secluded spot to settle some private quarrel of last night’s making.

“Scented danger and gone,” said one.

Another shook his head and stared into the depths of the wood before him with such a keen pair of eyes that Barrington believed he must be seen.

“Not a man to run from danger,” he said, “unless mademoiselle were strangely deceived.”

The remark decided Barrington’s course of action.  He stepped forward followed by Seth, who tied up the horses again and then took up a position behind his master.

“Are you seeking me, gentlemen?”

“If your name be Monsieur Barrington,” the man with the keen eyes answered.