"Then stop instantly and summon them to us."
"Indeed, nay!" Sir Richard amazedly exclaimed. "I'm not again for running my head into a hornet's nest," he said, by way of borrowing de Claverlok's simile. "But," an inspiration dawning upon him, "do you wish to leave me and go on to Castle Yewe?"
"Without you—Richard?"
The manner of her reply sent a cold sweat to oozing at his every pore. He felt himself caught fair.
"Ho, boys!" Isabel suddenly shouted aloud, clapping her hands. "Draw rein, Richard," she commanded.
"Well, by the mass!" the young knight exclaimed. But he drew rein.
There was a great noise of stumbling horses, and the sharp crackling of breaking twigs, as the foot-boys hurriedly drew toward the road. When they had observed the young knight's companion, they were the most relieved and happy of youths. They immediately set about making Isabel comfortable upon the back of the housed palfrey, after which the march was begun, with the foot-boys singing merrily on before.
Harold rode back presently to announce that he knew of a cave something less than a league ahead where they could be rendered comfortable for the night. Both Thomas and he would do their best, the youth assured Sir Richard in extravagant terms, to have them a fresh hare, a crisp loaf of bread, and a sufficiency of sweet goat's milk wherewith to break their fasts in the morning. Already, the young knight thought, their journey was beginning to assume somewhat of the complexion of a wedding tour.
They then directed their course toward the cave; and by an ingenious arrangement of the tent, which Harold and Thomas were carrying with them, they contrived for Isabel a comfortable and perfectly secluded chamber within its depths.
While the foot-boys were engaged in building a roaring fire just outside the cavern's broad mouth, Isabel sat upon a boulder and engaged Sir Richard in an entertaining and animated conversation. It was the first opportunity he had enjoyed since their meeting of having a quiet look at her. As she talked, the young knight noted with a certain satisfaction the ever-changing expression of her fair and mobile countenance as the filmy veils of light and shadow played across it. "Certes," he yielded to himself, "she is beautiful. But 'tis beauty, methinks, of a rather dangerous and sirenlike kind."