He rushed forward as he spoke, but instantly the door was secured on the outside, and he and Lady Mabel were alone. The wily parson and the Welsh knight had fled. The door resisted both foot and sword, and stubbornly refused to give way to any forcible attempts. Sir William distinguished the clattering of hoofs in the distance becoming fainter and more faint, and he burned for the pursuit. Mabel led him to the window, and gazed long and fondly upon his noble features. Age had scarcely touched them. The bloom of youth had, indeed, passed away, but there was the calm and mellow hue of manhood. The locks were not as profusely clustered over his brow as before, but the expansive forehead was more dignified when unshaded. Tears came into her eyes, for, although he was but slightly changed from the husband of her youth, and although no feature was a stranger, still she thought why should she not have been allowed to witness all the daily changes effected upon him. It is painful, after a long absence, to return to the home of other days. It is no longer a home; for new inmates have introduced new arrangements. Humble may have been the household gods: only an old chair standing in a corner, and a small table at the patched window; yet they were the gods of the heart, and, although they may have been replaced by the most costly and splendid furniture, we refuse to call the house our home. Cover the bird’s nest with leaves of gold, and after its flight and wanderings, would it then take up its abode any more than it would although there were no nest at all? But more painful is it when the loved one has changed. The features may be more beautiful than before, but if all their former peculiarity be gone, they are those of a stranger; and as we would refuse to cross the threshold, much more to sit down in the house, once our home, but now altogether changed, so we cannot take hold of the hand, we cannot kiss the lips, we cannot embrace the form of that one, once the idol of our heart, but now a stranger. But Lady Mabel’s feelings were not akin to these; although they were painful as well as extatic. He whom she now gazed upon was Sir William Bradshaigh, every look, every movement, every accent told her. Soon, however, loud steps were ascending the corridor, and louder shouts announced them. “Sir William! Sir William! welcome to Haigh Hall!” The bar was removed, and a cordial greeting took place between the returned palmer and his faithful retainers. “Thanks, thanks my men. But the cowardly knight has fled. Help me to horse! Haste! Mabel, my love, I return as soon as the wretch is slain. Thou art more beautiful than ever, my own wife. But how can you love the aged palmer? Farewell, Mabel.” Proud were the retainers, when their lord stood among them with his sword.