No longer should it be lonely or desolate.  Aye, and no longer should his faithful heart be hungry.

On this day she had been over for the third time, riding by the road, because she and Martin both carried packages of garments and other things upon their saddles; but returning by a shorter way through the woods, silent and mossy, most heavenly cool and green.

This journey had served to complete her happy preparations.  So now, should Hugh arrive, even at sunset, and be wishful to ride on without delay, she could order the saddling of Icon, and say:  “I am ready, dear Knight; let us go.”

She stood on the Castle wall, gazing at the blood-red banners of the sunset, flaming from the battlements of a veritable city of gold; then, shading her eyes, turned to look once again along the road.

And, at that moment, out from the dark fir wood there rode a horseman, alone.

For one moment only did her heart leap in the wild belief that Hugh had returned.  The next instant she knew this could not be he; even before her eyes made out a stranger.

She watched him leave the road, and turn up the winding path which led to the Castle gate; saw the porter go to the grating in answer to a loud knocking without; saw him fetch old Zachary, who in his turn sent for Martin Goodfellow; upon which the gates were opened wide, and the stranger rode into the courtyard.

Whereupon Mora thought it time that she should descend from the battlements and find out who this unexpected visitor might be.

At the head of the great staircase, she met Martin.

“Lady,” he said, “there waits a man below who urgently desires speech with Sir Hugh.  Learning from us that the Knight hath ridden south, and is like to be away some days longer, he begs to have word with you, alone; yet refuses to state his business or to give his name.  Master Zachary greatly hopeth that it may be your pleasure that we bid the fellow forthwith depart, telling him—­if he so will—­to ride back in six days’ time, when the worshipful Knight, whom he desires to see, will have returned.”

Mora knitted her brows.  It did not please her that Zachary and Martin Goodfellow should arrange together what she should do.

“Describe him, Martin,” she said.  “What manner of man is he?”

“Swarthy,” said Martin, “and soldierly; somewhat of a dare-devil, but on his best behaviour.  Zachary and I would suggest——­”

“I will see him,” said Mora, beginning to descend the stairs.  “I will see him in the banqueting hall, and alone.  You, Martin, can wait without, entering on the instant if I call.  Tell Zachary to bid them prepare a meal of bread and meat, with a flagon of wine, or a pot of good ale, which I may offer to this traveller, should he need refreshment.”

She was standing in the banqueting hall, on the very spot where Hugh had kneeled at their parting, when the swarthy fellow, soldierly, yet somewhat of a dare-devil, entered.