"Certes, fair damsel, I crave thy pardon, but I am much belated, and have been sorely bested. I cry your mercy. But tell me, an thou canst, how I can find the Hermit of St Catherine’s?" "Right easily, fair sir. Seest thou yonder hill to thy right?" "The fire I saw was to the left, I’ll wager my falcon," said Ralph; then he added aloud, "Marry, do I, fair damsel." "Then ride straight up that hill--there is naught save a few rough stones to hinder thee; only walk thy horse carefully till thou gettest upon hard ground, as ’tis all quick about here. Nay, I will show thee," added the figure quickly; "’tis but a poor return for thy kindness to us." "And when did I show kindness to thee, gentle damsel?" said Ralph, in astonishment. "Thou quickly forgettest thy good deeds, I see," said the girl. "’Tis a good sign of one gently nurtured." "But when saw I thee before?" "I did not say thou hadst seen me before!" "Marry, fair damsel, thou speakest in riddles. I did thee a kindness, and yet did not see thee! A-read me the riddle?" "Nay, ’tis best to forget the kindnesses you do, so long as they to whom they are done keep them in mind. There, now, thou art on safe ground. Ride boldly up the hill. At the summit thou wilt see the beacon light. Fare-thee-well." "But, damsel, wilt thou not tell me thy name? Who are those caitiffs who wrought me such wrong? Where dwellest thou? How camest thou here?" "And then men call us poor women curious and prying," laughed the girl. "Good-night, gentle sir, mayest thou prosper, and have a pleasant journey;" and before Ralph realised she was gone, she had disappeared down the head of the gully. "Well, ’tis little use following her," thought Ralph; "my business is up there. I marvel whether she told me truth; but I shall soon see." He mounted his horse, and pursued his way as fast as he could, consistently with the steepness of the ascent. So steep was the hill in some places, that he dismounted once more, and led his horse up. He had no idea the hill was so high or so difficult to climb, from the view he had had of it below, but at length he found the steep incline becoming rounder and more level. Mounting again, he set spurs to his horse, and galloped over the smooth, close-cropped, wind-shorn grass. After riding a few hundred yards, he saw a bright glow before him, and in another minute he was trotting up to a low building with a small octagonal tower, on the top of which was a cresset holding a mass of flaming tow and faggots, which cast a lurid glare all over the summit of the lofty down. It was St Catherine’s Chapel and Hermitage. As Ralph rode up, the figure of a man in a monk’s dress emerged in the tower, and attended to the fire. "Art thou the Hermit of St Catherine?" called out Ralph. The monk turned round. "Who is it that calls?" "One of the Captain of the Wight’s pages, who has come with a missive for thee." "Tarry, my son, till I come down," said the Hermit.