“That were not a bad notion,” he sneered, “once the priest hath mumbled the words that make thee Conradt’s wife. But now get yonder and prepare thy bridal robes”; and he strode away. [Illustration: “THEN THE BARON GRIPPED HER BY THE ARM.”] Elise turned and fled from that place, scarce noting whither she went. Not back to the women’s chambers; she could not face the baroness and her ladies until she had faced this monstrous trouble alone. Out she sped, then, to the castle garden, fleeing, poor hunted fawn that she was, to the one spot of refuge she knew—the sheltering shade of a drooping elm, at whose foot welled up a little stream that, husbanded and led by careful gardening, wandered through the pleasance to water my lady’s rose-garden beyond. There had ever been her favorite dreaming-place, and thither brought she this great woe wherewith she must wrestle. But ere she could cast herself down upon the welcoming moss at the roots of the tree, a figure started up from within the shadow of the great black trunk and came toward her. She started back with a startled cry, wondering, even then, that aught could cause her trouble or dismay beyond what was already hers. In the next instant, however, she recognized Wulf. He was passing through the garden and had been minded to turn aside for a moment to sit beneath the elm where he knew the fair lily of the castle had her favorite nook. Sweet it seemed to him, in the stress of that troubled time, to linger there and let softer thoughts than those of war and of perplexing duties come in at will; but he was even then departing when he was aware of Elise coming toward him. Then he saw her face, all distraught with pain and sorrow, and wrath filled him. “What is it?” he cried. “Who hath harmed thee? ’Twere an ill faring for him an I come nigh him!” “Wulf, Wulf!” moaned Elise, as soon as she knew him. “Surely Mary Mother herself hath sent thee to help me!” And standing there under the sheltering tree, she told him, as best she might for shame and woe and the maidenly wrath that were hers, the terrible doom fallen upon her. And Wulf’s face grew stern and white as he listened, and there fell off from it the boyish look of ease and light-heartedness that is the right of youth, and the look of a man came there, to stay until his death. Now and again, as Elise spoke, his hand sought the dagger at his belt, and his breath came thick from beneath his teeth; but no words wasted he in wrath, for his wit was working fast on the matter before them, which was the finding of a way of escape for the maiden.