They shrank away from him instinctively and some crossed themselves. "He is in one of his mad fits," Baldwin muttered. Still the steward showed no fear. "A swallow, man!" he cried aloud. "Come, talk sense. There are no swallows flying at this time of year. And if there were, they do not fly by night, nor give men wounds like that. What was it? Out with it, now. Do you not see, man," he added, giving Martin an impatient shake, "that Sir Anthony is waiting?" The fool nodded stupidly. "A swallow," he muttered. "Ay, 'twas a swallow, a great big swallow. I--I nearly put my foot on him." "And he flew up and hit you in the face?" Baldwin said, with huge contempt in his tone. Martin accepted the suggestion placidly. "Ay, 'twas so. A great big swallow, and he flew in my face," he repeated. Sir Anthony looked at him compassionately. "Poor fellow!" he said; "Baldwin, see to him. He has had one of his fits and hurt himself." "I never knew him hurt _himself_," Baldwin muttered darkly. "Let somebody see to him," the knight said, disregarding the interruption. "And now come, Petronilla. Why--where has the girl gone?" Not far. Only round to the other side of him, that she might be a little nearer to Martin. The curiosity in the other women's faces was a small thing in comparison with the startled, earnest look in hers. She gazed at the man with eyes not of affright, but of eager, avid questioning, while through her parted lips her breath came in gasps. Her cheek was red and white by turns, and, for her heart--well, it had seemed to stand still a moment, and now was beating like the heart of some poor captured bird held in the hand. She did not seem to hear her father speak to her, and he had to touch her sleeve. Then she started as though she were awakening from a dream, and followed him sadly into the house. Sadly, and yet there was a light in her eyes which had not been there five minutes before. A swallow? A great big swallow? And this was December, when the swallows were at the bottom of the horse-ponds. She only knew of one swallow whose return was possible in winter. But then that one swallow--ay, though the snow should lie inches deep in the chase, and the water should freeze in her room--would make a summer for her. Could it be that one? Could it be? Petronilla's heart was beating so loudly as she went upstairs after her father, that she wondered he did not hear it.