Instantly Sir Owen rose from the board and went out. Going to his own abode he made preparations, and at dawn he arose and mounted his horse, and set forth swiftly to go to the dominions of the countess. Great was his fear that some evil had befallen her in consequence of his leaving her unprotected from the evil powers of Sir Dewin. He rode hard and fast northwards through the wild and desolate mountains, until he saw the sea like burnished lead lying on his left hand. Then he turned his horse's head away and rode far into the deep heart of the land. But though he knew the way passing well, he could not find the road now, and wandered up and down the lonely moorlands and the dark forest rides, baffled and wearied, heartsick and full of dread. Thus he wandered, for ever seeking the way, and trying this one and that, until all his apparel was worn out, and his body was wasted away and his hair was grown long. And at length, from misery and hopelessness, he grew so weak that he thought that he must die. Then he descended slowly from the mountains, and thought to find a hermit, to whom he might tell all his misery before he died. But he could not find any harbourage, and so he crawled to a brook in a park, and sat there wondering why this evil fate had been visited upon him, and grieving that now his beloved countess must be in wretchedness and sorrow by reason of his forgetting, and that never more could he hope to see her and tell her how grieved he had been to cause her such pain. Then in a little while he swooned under the heat of the sun, from hunger and weakness, and lay half in and half out of the brook. It befell that a widowed lady, to whom the brook and the land belonged, came walking in the fields with her maids. And one of them saw the figure of Sir Owen and, half fearful, she went up to him and found him faintly breathing. The widow lady had him taken into the farmstead of one of her tenants, and there he was tended carefully until he came again to his senses. And with the good care, meat, drink, and medicaments, he soon began to thrive again. He asked the man of the house who it was that had brought him there. 'It was our Lady of the Moors,' said the man sadly. 'And though she is herself in sore straits and narrowly bestead by a cruel and oppressive earl, who would rob her of these last few acres, yet she hath ever a tender heart for those in greater distress than herself.' 'It grieves me,' said Sir Owen, 'that the lady is oppressed by that felon earl. He should be hindered, and that sternly.' 'Ay,' said the man, 'he would cease his wrongful dealing if she would wed him, but she cannot abide the evil face of him.' Ever and anon the Lady of the Moors sent one of her maidens to learn how the stranger was progressing, and the maiden came one day when Sir Owen was quite recovered, and she was greatly astounded to see how comely a man he was, and how straight and tall and knightly was his mien.