"Make haste; what is it? Your friend has but this moment begged to speak with you in private," said she, when she had joined the young knight outside. "Tyrrell is approaching in this direction," said Sir Richard. "I saw him but now riding over the northern hill." "Give thanks to God!" exclaimed Isabel with an earnest and deep fervor, clasping tightly together her white hands. "Why, because that you shall now be discovered?" "Nay; what care I for that, ... now! But because yonder tyrant," she hurriedly went on, leading Sir Richard to the side of the cabin whence Tyrrell could be seen, "is a cunning chymist, a famous physician, ... a student of Linacre. Go, join your friend, ... but have a care, excite him not. I'll await my uncle here." For days Sir Richard had noted a change in Isabel's manner. Bit by bit she seemed to have grown more grave and thoughtful, and less breezily abrupt in her way of speaking. He had remarked the humility with which she obeyed de Claverlok's slightest wish. Upon this morning she had displayed a depth of feeling of which he had considered her quite incapable. In seeking out the reason as he was making his way into the hut, the answer dawned suddenly upon him. He understood. "Well, my good friend de Claverlok," said he, with an attempt to be cheerful, as he came beside the sick man's bed. "Methought that by now you would be on horse and a-tilting." "Hark thee, Dick," de Claverlok whispered. "I'll be a-tilting with the devil by to-morrow, ... eh!" whereupon he smiled, a wan, brave smile. Then, looking soberly up into the young knight's eyes--"Dick, ... friend, ... I have a confession to make ere I lay down my last lance," he said. "God's sake! To think that I should play the fool at my age, ... two score and four, come the seventeenth day of next month--" he paused for a space, drooping his dimmed eyes. "But to my confession: I meant no harm, ... God wot, my boy, and I intended not to do it, Dick; ... but I loved the maid with whom your troth is plighted from the moment her dainty foot stepped across yon sill.... I ask your forgiveness----" "De Claverlok, ... dear old friend, ... are you serious?" "Serious, ... eh?" "God of my fathers! Do you mean it?" Sir Richard fervently exclaimed. "An this be imperiling your precious life, take her, man, and let health return upon you." Thereupon the grizzled knight discovered a strength wherewith to frown. "'Tis most unseemly this, ... most unseemly, ... eh! And you, Dick, with your troth but fresh----" "De Claverlok," interrupted Sir Richard firmly, "no promises have passed. She thinks me but a silly youth--which is true.... I am. Isabel cares not a fig for me, nor, by my faith, do I for her! We shall never wed. Get you back inside your coat of mail and make her happy, for she loves you, my friend. I read it in her sad eyes but this moment gone."