“_Shall I desire the dragon that slew me? Shall I cherish Medusa?_ Burning--burning!” He sprang to his feet and walked the wood, up and down, up and down. He moved with disordered steps, twigs and boughs striking him. The long June day left still a radiance. He threw himself down and lay with face buried. Time dropped away, drop by drop, and each drop a world and an æon. Dark clear night, moonless but starlight. Thomas Bettany, returning to Middle Forest, found at his own door a ship’s boy sent by Diccon Wright. The latter was again at the Golden Ship and would see him there. He went and found that the matter was that _Vineyard_ boat could not be at landing first planned. The _Alan-a-Dale_ had come in and chosen to drop anchor just there. Best now the old landing by the reeds. Bettany agreed. Old landing by the reeds. Home again and preparing for bed he determined to rise early and ride to the ruined farm. If at dusk aught happened and he did not reach the man nor tell him of where now he was to go--then mischance enough! With a long sigh he put himself into his comfortable merchant’s bed in comfortable merchant’s room. He slept and waked, slept and waked and at last an hour before dawn gave up sleeping and lay staring before him. “Now it is Wednesday. To-morrow is Thursday, and then Friday.” Light stole into the chamber. He rose, moved softly, dressed quietly, stole downstairs, unbarred the small door and was out in court and across to merchant’s stable. Here he saddled his horse, Black Prince. East was daffodil; morning star shone over the castle. Poor Clares’ bell rang lauds, Black Prince went by the softer ways as though velvet shod. So at peace was the land that town gates were no longer closed at night. The industrious young merchant riding through rode off toward Wander forest. Sun had risen when he came nigh to the ruined farm and began to whistle “Otterbourne.” Beech and ash and oak, fern and thorn, and by a thorn tree he who had been, but was no more Brother Richard. “Well, in these days, many leave cloister-- ‘But gae ye up to Otterbourne And wait there day is three; And if I come not ere three day is end, A fause knight ca’ ye me.’” Thomas Bettany, dismounted now, looked with wonder at the other who stood tall and gold-brown and determined. A night had made a difference! “You must have slept well under oaken tree!” “No. I did not sleep.” “Then faery queen must have visited you! Truly you have the look of it!” “I longed for your coming, fellow worker, and that I should not have to wait for it till eve! Who brought it about? Still that Success!” “_Vineyard_ boat cannot be at the landing I told you of. It is now the old landing by the reeds. It seemed best to let you know without delay.” “Had you not come I might have stained my face and gone into town, changing voice, changing step and figure--Richard Dawn, traveller with gold in his purse, sending from the inn to Master Thomas Bettany--”