‘My lady and I both saw him.’

’What then can have become of him?—­We went very fast, and I suppose he gave up the chase in despair.’

’Thou wilt find him the second round.  But stay—­I will get a horse and go with thee.’

Dorothy went within the gate, and lord Herbert ran back to the stables.  In a few minutes he was by her side again, and together they rode around the huge nest.  The moon was glorious, with a few large white clouds around her, like great mirrors hung up to catch and reflect her light.  The stars were few, and doubtful near the moon, but shone like diamonds in the dark spaces between the clouds.  The rugged fortress lay swathed in the softness of the creamy light.  No noise broke the stillness, save the dull drum-beat of their horses’ hoofs on the turf, or their cymbal-clatter where they crossed a road, and the occasional shrill call from Dorothy’s whistle.

On all sides the green fields, cow-cropped, divided by hedge-rows, and spotted with trees, single and in clumps, came close to the castle walls, except in one or two places where the corner of a red ploughed field came wedging in.  All was so quiet and so soft that the gaunt old walls looked as if, having at first with harsh intrusion forced their way up into the sweet realm of air from the stony regions of the earth beneath, by slow degrees, yet long since, they had suffered an air change, and been charmed and gentled into harmony with soft winds and odours and moonlight.  To Dorothy it seemed as if peace itself had taken form in the feathery weight that filled the flaky air; and as her horse galloped along, flying like a bird over ditch and mound, her own heart so light that her body seemed to float above the saddle rather than rest upon it, she felt like a soul which, having been dragged to hell by a lurking fiend, a good and strong angel was bearing aloft into bliss.  Few delights can equal the mere presence of one whom we trust utterly.

No mastiff came to Dorothy’s whistle, and having finished their round, they rode back to the stables, put up their horses, and rejoined lady Margaret, where she was still pacing the sunk walk around the moat.  There lord Herbert showed Dorothy where her dog vanished, comforting her with the assurance that nothing should be altered before the faithful animal returned, as doubtless he would the moment he despaired of finding her in the open country.

Lord Herbert said nothing to his father that night lest he should spoil his rest, for he was yet far from well, but finding him a good deal better the next morning, he laid open the whole matter to him according to his convictions concerning Dorothy and her behaviour, ending with the words:  ’That maiden, my lord, hath truth enough in her heart to serve the whole castle, an’ if it might be but shared.  To doubt her is to wrong the very light.  I fear there are not many maidens in England who would have the courage and honesty, necessary both, to act as she hath done.’