Isabel had been out with Mistress Margaret walking in the dusk one August evening after supper, on the raised terrace beneath the yews. They had been listening to the loud snoring of the young owls in the ivy on the chimney-stack opposite, and had watched the fierce bird slide silently out of the gloom, white against the blackness, and disappear down among the meadows. Once Isabel had seen him pause, too, on one of his return journeys, suspicious of the dim figures beneath, silhouetted on a branch against the luminous green western sky, with the outline of a mouse with its hanging tail plain in his crooked claws, before he glided to his nest again. As Isabel waited she heard the bang of the garden-door, but gave it no thought, and a moment after Mistress Margaret asked her to fetch a couple of wraps from the house for them both, as the air had a touch of chill in it. She came down the lichened steps, crossed the lawn, and passed into the unlighted hall. As she entered, the door opposite opened, and for a moment she saw the silhouette of a man's figure against the bright passage beyond. Her heart suddenly leapt, and stood still. "Anthony!" she whispered, in a hush of suspense. There was a vibration and a step beside her. "Isabel!" said Hubert's voice. And then his arms closed round her for the first time in her life. She struggled and panted a moment as she felt his breath on her face; and he released her. She recoiled to the door, and stood there silent and panting. "Oh! Isabel!" he whispered; and again, "Isabel!" She put out her hand and grasped the door-post behind her. "Oh! Hubert! Why have you come?" He came a step nearer and she could see the faint whiteness of his face in the western glimmer. "I cannot wait," he said, "I have been nearly beside myself. I have left the north--and I cannot wait so long." "Well?" she said; and he heard the note of entreaty and anxiety in her voice. "I have my plans," he answered; "I will tell you to-morrow. Where is my aunt?" Isabel heard a step on the gravel outside. "She is coming," she said sharply. Hubert melted into the dark, and she saw the opposite door open and let him out. The next day Hubert announced his plans to Sir Nicholas, and a conflict followed. "I cannot go on, sir," he said, "I cannot wait for ever. I am treated like a servant, too; and you know how miserably I am paid, I have obeyed you for six years, sir; and now I have thrown up the post and told my lord to his face that I can bear with him no longer." Sir Nicholas' face, as he sat in his upright chair opposite the boy, grew flushed with passion. "It is your accursed temper, sir," he said violently. "I know you of old. Wait? For what? For the Protestant girl? I told you to put that from your mind, sir." Hubert did not propose as yet to let his father into all his plans. "I have not spoken her name, sir, I think. I say I cannot wait for my fortune; I may be impatient, sir--I do not deny it."