'I was bred in London, Brian, and would gladly see it again. When we married, thou didst promise me sometimes to return thither. But now for three years I have not been a day's ride from the castle.' 'Indeed, I have been remiss, Ursula; but thou knowest how vexed the country hath been of late, and I ever commanded hither and thither by our gracious monarch. But I had hoped thou wouldst have found some company in thy solitude.' 'Last night we had a visitor,' spoke up the boy, looking up in his mother's face. 'I saw him--the big man with the red beard----' 'Silence, sirrah!' interrupted the knight, with a stern voice and frown. 'What art thou, to contradict thy mother to her face! Look how thy impudence hath made her blush! Off to thy nurse, and let me hear thy babble no more to-day. Would a big red-bearded man have been here, and thy mother not have told me of it?' And hereupon Sir Brian laughed. After the boy had been taken away, he sat down in his high-backed chair beside the hearth, and motioned with his hand to Lady Kildhurm to seat herself opposite him. 'This is a lonely spot indeed,' he said, 'and withal none too safe for an unarmed man to ride abroad. Even this very afternoon, Ursula, as I was spurring along the road by Ennerdale Water, thinking of the loving and wifely welcome thou wouldst give me on my arrival here, I was set upon by a brawny ruffian, a huge, bearded varlet, with a sword a cloth-yard and a half long. We fought beneath the Great Oak; and he would have cloven me to the chine, save that, as good luck would have it, he caught his blade against a branch, so that he lost his hold upon the hilt. But my peril was great. See, I have brought away a twig of the tree for remembrance of my escape.' So saying he drew forth from his breast the cluster of acorns, and held it towards his wife. 'There is blood upon it!' cried Lady Kildhurm, snatching back her half-extended hand. 'Brian--what man was this?' 'What man?' he repeated with a short laugh. 'What but a robber, Ursula, who would rob me of what I hold most precious? But methinks his ill deeds are at an end now!' 'What hast thou done to him?' she asked, trembling very much. 'Nay, I did but pass my rapier through his weazand,' replied the knight, keeping his black eyes on her face. 'Indeed, he was not worthy to die by the hand of a true man, but should rather have been hanged on the tree beneath which he fell, as a warning to all such vermin. But in the hurry of the moment I stood not upon ceremony.... Do not turn so pale, Ursula! Comfort thyself, dear wife--I got but a scratch or so, which will be healed long ere the crows have made a meal of his carcase.' 'This afternoon--by the Oak of Ennerdale?' said Lady Kildhurm in a dull voice, her eyes wide open and fixed.