"Nay, fair cousin, say it not. I know what thou thinkest. It may never be. I told thee months ago. Thou wilt some day know how true I spoke. We cannot all have what we wish; and even if we could, we should soon wish for something else." "Well, I would like to try," said Ralph bluntly. "Ay, and so should I," sighed Mistress Yolande. "But, Ralph, promise me thou wilt look well after thy lord. He is over venturesome, and, I fear me much, he careth naught for life; indeed I sometimes think he would rather go hence." Yolande’s voice became tremulous. She recovered herself after a pause. "Thou wilt watch over him, Ralph? I know not why, but I feel I shall never look upon him more!" And so his lovely cousin had no more words for him than that he should take care of his lord? No matter, Ralph felt he only lived for her. He would willingly die to give her happiness. He simply answered,-- "I will do my duty." They then went into the house, and Ralph took a respectful adieu of old Sir William Lisle. "Go forth, my kinsman, thou art a worthy son of our noble house. I would well that thou, when thou returnest, shouldst take daughter and lands, and rear up a stalwart line. But it will be as God wills it. Take my blessing, and go forth to victory." So Ralph left his kinsfolk, sadder at heart than he had ever been in all his life, but resolved to bring back his lord in safety and glory to the Wight, or die with him in France. As he rode back over St George’s Down--for he took a longer way back, being in a dreamy and melancholy mood--the soft light of the young moon shone in the pale primrose of the western sky. The night-jar uttered its melancholy note, and flapped heavily past in the silence of the evening, while a distant owl raised its plaintive cry from the dark woods which faded in the grey and ghostly mist of the northern valley. This was his last night in England. How many would see their homes again of all that gallant band of high-spirited men? But a step near at hand roused him from his reverie. Two figures passed him almost unobserved. The slighter one turned to look, gave a little sigh, and went on with its taller companion, who seemed to walk with difficulty. *CHAPTER XXIII.* *HOW THEY LEFT THE WIGHT.* The stirring sound of trumpets awoke Ralph at an early hour the next morning. All the castle-yard was already busy with hurrying men-at-arms, archers, and varlets. Sir John Trenchard, Tom o’ Kingston, and the other officers were giving orders and getting the men into their places.