By the time Glendower had broken the legs of the hernsaw and stuck its long bill into the ground, as was the duty of the first sportsman who reached the quarry after it had been brought to the earth, the members of the cavalcade began to arrive, and as the knight rose from his stooping posture, with the prey in one hand and the falcon perched on his wrist, the silvery voice of Isabel was heard exclaiming— “Ah! my gay coz, and so you lost your race—a very unusual thing however for a madcap like you; but pray what was the wager?” “Yes!—the wager—the wager!” said a dozen merry voices. “Fair ladies, I cry your mercy; but the wager must be a secret from you as yet, though perhaps I will tell cousin Isabel, to raise your curiosity;” and as he spoke, the young man bent his face to the ear of the high-born beauty and whispered a few words, whose import none could tell, but which brought the red blood, like a crimson sunset, into the maiden’s cheek. “But here is the winner,” continued the young cavalier aloud, as he moved away to allow Glendower to approach Isabel with the prey. The knight drew near, and, assuming as much composure as he could, tendered Isabel the quarry, in the courtly language of the day. The embarrassment of the maiden was by no means diminished at the address of Glendower, and, as the knight proceeded, her demeanor appeared to infect him with a like embarrassment, the more that every eye was directed on the maiden and Glendower. It was, therefore, a relief to both when a sudden shout announced that another quarry had been started, and in an instant one of the party cast off a falcon in pursuit. This attracted attention from Isabel and Glendower, and as the gay cavalcade dashed away they were left almost alone. For a minute Glendower had not words to speak, although something in the smile of the maiden emboldened him to venture—indeed never had Isabel greeted him more encouragingly. The maiden looked on the ground and was also silent. As usual, in such cases, the maiden was the first to speak, and, like most of her sex, she opened the conversation with a casual remark. “Yon hawk is but an _eyas_,” said she, pointing to the bird which had just been cast off, “see, he flies the prey. Ah! yonder goes Tremaine to lure him down. And see, the bird is not such a foul kestrel after all, for he answers to the call.” [Illustration] As she spoke, the same page to whom we have more than once alluded already, was seen galloping away in the distance, waving around his head the tasseled hood used to lure birds of the highest training, and shouting with his voice. At the same instant another falcon was cast off, and directly the quarry and its pursuer were lost in the clouds, while the cavalcade, galloped away along the banks of the river, following the direction taken by the heron, and leaving Isabel and Glendower wholly alone.