She was leading the young knight a merry dance, with her "Richard, fetch me this," and "Richard, dear, fetch me that"; her "Are you certain that this is the nearest path to Castle Yewe?" When the young knight would grow sullen and demur against returning there, "How absurd of you, my brave champion," Isabel would say, "to set yourself against those whose only desire it is to put you where you rightfully belong!" Scarcely an hour passed without seeing its quarrel between them, which inevitably ended by her riding close alongside her companion, taking his hand and wheedling him, willy-nilly, into the best of good humors. Her wonderful eyes during one moment would be flashing cold steel, and in the next would radiate the warmth and glory of a tropic sun. Isabel was, indeed, a most extraordinary young woman. Within his mind Sir Richard had made a complete surrender to her continued importunings. He was staking his last hope of liberation from his uncomfortable, and that which he considered dangerous, position upon the slight chance of finding de Claverlok in the deserted hut. "An the good fellow happens not to be there," he thought, "why--I'll fare on and discover me the things that Lord Douglas has in waiting." Sir Richard's system of secret signals to the foot-boys worked admirably, and quite as well as he could wish. By giving them the proper signs he was enabled to follow the path along which the Renegade Duke and he had so furiously ridden. He even remarked the patch of broken gorse and brambles that plainly marked his fall. It was upon the afternoon of the third day of their journey that they turned into the sandy highway where the young knight had momentarily outwitted his pursuer. He recalled to his mind the image of de Claverlok's rugged, honest face set fantastically against the moon, as he had seen it upon that memorable night. Sir Richard was obliged to confess that his hope of discovering him at their appointed rendezvous was sinking in proportion with the nearness of his approach thereto. At length, as they rode free of the forest through which a part of the road lay, he made out the little hut standing close beside a down something near a quarter of a league distant. There was a monk, on foot, moving in their direction along the highway. As the churchman drew nearer, Sir Richard noted that he was tallying his string of black beads and muttering over his open breviary. Isabel, just then, rode close to his saddle. "Richard," said she, "here now is our good priest." The maiden had left Sir Richard in no possible doubt of her meaning. A thought came to him, though it was not a happy one, for nothing, now, he fancied, could ever more be happy. Carrying out the thought, however, he called to the monk to halt and attend upon his words.