It was Winifred who penetrated to the awful presence of Sir Edward Peckham himself, to beg off the herd-boy who was about to be sent to jail for robbing the heron's nest of eggs and feathers; in which enterprise she succeeded so well that she not only saved the lad from punishment, but was presented with a new silver piece by Sir Edward himself, and regaled with sweetmeats by my lady, besides obtaining the inestimate privilege of coming twice in every week, and sometimes oftener, to take lessons in fine work and confectionery of Lady Peckham's waiting gentlewoman, Mistress Alwright. Finally, it was Winifred who read the delinquent herd-boy such a lecture on the enormity of his guilt in robbing the herons, that he blubbered over it for an hour, and promised never again to take what did not belong to him. This very day she had been to visit poor Dame Hodges in her affliction, and had thus heard the news of the departure of the soldiers from Bridgewater. Winifred walked briskly along, now watching the rooks, which were beginning to return to their nests in Holford Avenue, and the robin redbreasts in the hedges; now musing upon something she had read, or repeating aloud her favorite verses and ballads. As she drew near the place where the dead elm stood white and gaunt in the copse, she began to look about for the basket which Jack had left behind in his terror. Presently she espied it not far from a tall, upright stone near the dead tree I have mentioned. This stone stood close to the edge of the copse, amid a number of similar ones which had fallen across each other in wild confusion, and which were believed to have once formed part of some old heathen temple. The ruin, if such it was, was nearly overgrown with rank weeds and brambles, and was looked upon with peculiar disfavor by the country folks, as being the favorite haunt of the headless steed before mentioned. "Why, there is the basket!" said Winifred, surprised. "I would not have believed Jack would go so near the standing stones alone for all the blackberries in Somersetshire." She went to the place, and as she stooped to take up the basket, she heard distinctly the same sound which had scared Jack—a faint, hollow groan. "Jack did hear something, after all!" was her first thought. "It is some poor creature who has been wounded, and is perhaps starving!" was her second thought. She looked carefully around, and seeing nobody near, she said in a low voice, "Who is here?" Another fainter groan was the only reply. Winifred drew nearer. Stretched upon the ground, in a little hollow among the fallen stones, lay a young gentleman—so Winifred judged him to be by his dress—apparently just at the point of death. His once gay doublet was soiled and ragged, his eyes were sunken and closed, and there was a half-healed scar upon his cheek. Winifred spoke to him, but there was no answer except a deep, tremulous sigh.