“The Lynwood note!  My husband’s note!  O thanks, thanks to the Saints!” cried the Lady, clasping her hands, whilst Eustace, vaulting into the saddle behind his little nephew, rode across the drawbridge as fast as the stiffened joints of old Blanc Etoile could be prevailed on to move.  Gaining the summit of a rising ground, both at once shouted, “Our own pennon!  It is himself!” as they beheld the dark blue crosslet on an argent field floating above a troop of horsemen, whose armour glanced in the setting sun.

“There are the Lances of Lynwood, Arthur,” said Eustace, leaping to the ground.  “Keep your seat, and meet your father like a brave Knight’s son.”

He then settled the reins in the child’s hand, and walked beside him to meet the new-comers.  They were about twenty in number, armed alike with corselets marked with the blue cross, steel headpieces, and long lances.  In front rode two of higher rank.  The first was a man of noble mien and lofty stature, his short dark curled hair and beard, and handsome though sunburnt countenance, displayed beneath his small blue velvet cap, his helmet being carried behind him by a man-at-arms, and his attire consisting of a close-fitting dress of chamois leather, a white mantle embroidered with the blue cross thrown over one shoulder, and his sword hanging by his side.  His companion, who carried at his saddle-bow a shield blazoned with heraldic devices in scarlet and gold, was of still greater height, and very slight; his large keen eyes, hair and moustache, black as jet; and his complexion dark brown, with a well-formed aquiline nose, and a perfect and very white set of teeth.

The instant the first-mentioned horseman perceived Eustace and Arthur, he sprang to the ground and hurried to meet them with rapid affectionate greetings and inquiries.  In another moment Dame Eleanor appeared on the drawbridge, and, weeping with joy, was clasped in her husband’s arms.  Behind her stood the venerable chaplain, Father Cyril, and a step or two further off, Ralph Penrose, both of whom in turn received the kindly greetings of Sir Reginald Lynwood, as, with his wife hanging on his arm and his boy holding his hand, he passed under the gateway of his ancestral castle.  Turning the next moment, he addressed his tall companion:  “Friend Gaston, I bid you welcome!  Dame Eleanor, and you, brother Eustace, I present to you my trusty Esquire, Master Gaston d’Aubricour.”

Due courtesies passed between the Lady and the Squire, who, after a few words with the Knight, remained to see the disposal of the men, while Sir Reginald himself entered the hall with his wife, son and brother.  Eustace did not long remain there:  he found that Reginald and Eleanor had much to say to each other, and his curiosity and interest were, besides, greatly excited by the novelty of the scene presented by the castle court, so different from its usual peaceful monotony.  The men were unsaddling their horses, rubbing them down, walking them about, or removing the stains of dust and mud from their own armour, while others were exchanging greetings with the villagers, who were gathering in joyous parties round such of the newly arrived as were natives of the place.