But a long, lean hound was baying hoarsely, and its red eyes gleamed like chysolites, and it led, step by step, the shuffling feet of a haggard man who long had sought St. Udo. And the skulker came to his side, and looked in his face with demoniac eagerness, and plunged the dastardly dagger hilt-deep into his breast, and stood erect with a long, wild, triumphant laugh. So the moon rode on in clearer majesty, and the night-dews dripped upon the slain--for "the dearest tears which heaven sheds are her dews upon the dead hero's face." CHAPTER X. MARGARET AGAIN A WANDERER. Heavily passed the days of Margaret Walsingham, having, as we know, that secret apprehension on her mind which the vision of the battle-field had cast, and waiting with sick anxiety for news from the war, which might explain to her what that vision might mean. Heavily pass the days, and October's brown era came sighing down to strip the trees. Lady Juliana was having her last ball at Hautville Park before her visitors should throng back to the city for the opening season, and for the second time she insisted upon her companion being present. She was so determined to have her way that Margaret had perforce to obey, all unconscious of the trap which was making ready for her. The mighty rooms of the chateau glittered with a thousand wax tapers; garlands of richest flowers festooned the walls; bewildering strains of music intoxicated the senses. My lady, the loveliest being there, shimmered about here and there, the beauty of the ball, the adored of half the gentlemen. Miss Walsingham, seeing no reason why she should be among the revelers, when her heart was so heavy with cares for the last of the Brands, soon glided into a small Saracenic cloister, which was lighted dimly by a single iron lamp, and from it watched with wistful and still tender interest the fairy-like figure of her Lady Julie. She had not been there a quarter of an hour, when the Duke of Piermont, passing through hurriedly, as if late for some engagement, caught sight of her, and stopped short before her. "My dear Miss Walsingham! To see you among us is a pleasure indeed. You'll waltz with me?" "I am strictly a spectator, your grace--thanks." "What! Not even walk through the Polonaise with me? Well, I shall forswear the mazes also. Will you come to the conservatory? I think there is some amazing flower of Lady Juliana's out--blooms once in a hundred years or so. Come and see it." "I think that your presence is expected in the ball-room. Lieutenant Falconcourt has been dispatched to seek for you." His grace glanced at his tablets and frowned. "Too late to keep my promise now," he muttered, "so I may as well follow my own inclinations. I shall remain conveniently invisible, with your permission, Miss Walsingham." "Your grace must not count upon my permission."