But whatsoe'er his crime, than such a cave A worse imprisonment he could not have. * * * * * But here a roaring torrent bids you stand. Forcing you climb a rock on the right hand, Which, hanging penthouse-like, does overlook The dreadful channel of the rapid brook. Over this dangerous precipice you crawl, Lost if you slip, for if you slip you fall. WONDERS OF THE PEAK, 1725. Elated by their success, the two noblemen at once left London and hastened on towards Haddon, and leaving the city behind them with few regrets, they arrived at Derby late in the afternoon of the day following the trial. It was Sir Thomas Stanley's time to be impatient now He was anxious to behold Margaret again, and leaving the baron behind him to settle a few matters of business he rode off upon a fresh horse to carry the good news to the Hall, and to herald the approach of the knight. John Manners was keeping Dorothy company on the top of the Eagle Tower when Sir Thomas appeared in sight. A "look out" had been on the watch for the last three days, waiting to announce the approach of the expected messenger from London, and each night a beacon fire had been lighted, that in the darkness he might not pass by. But no messenger came, and anxiety was beginning to make itself apparent on more faces than one when the two lovers espied the fast-approaching rider, and proclaimed the news to the household below. Margaret soon joined them company. She was burning with impatience to read the long-expected missive and she eagerly watched the horseman draw nearer who was bringing her tidings from her betrothed. "See Meg," exclaimed the overjoyed Dorothy, "thither he comes!" and she pointed to a cloud of dust in the far distance, in the midst of which might be seen every now and again the indistinct form of a horse and its rider. "Maybe he will pass by," exclaimed Manners. "Not he!" scornfully replied Margaret, "he will none pass by. None other than a messenger to Haddon would ride like that. The steed is hard put to it; surely it is near its journey's end." "Well, we shall soon see," interposed Doll, "he is making good speed." It was as Dorothy said. Even while they had been talking, the rider had considerably lessened the distance which separated him from the Hall, and, had it not been for the dim twilight which was then slowly deepening, they would have been enabled to distinguish more than they had already done. "He rides well," said Margaret, more to herself than to either of the others. "Methinks I know that ride." "'Tis like Crowleigh's," said Manners. "But Sir Everard is with Father Philip. It cannot be him," returned Dorothy. "There is but one man who bestrides a saddle in such a fashion," exclaimed Margaret, as she carefully scanned the horseman. "But no! it cannot be so. I thought it was Sir----" "Sir Thomas Stanley," exclaimed Dorothy, taking the words out of her sister's mouth.