"Nor sup nor drink will I taste till I have the maiden beside me," Sir Richard declared.
"Wait, ... I'll fetch her to thee," Zenas said, and thereupon went out of the room, muttering and laughing.
The young knight could hear his catlike footfalls, then, go limping up the stairs. Apprehending upon a sudden that the dwarf might be meditating some act of violence or harm, Sir Richard rushed to the door through which Zenas had made his exit. "Thy life, sir, shall answer for her safety," he shouted from the foot of the steps.
"Fear not, Sir Richard Daredevil," the hunchback called back from the landing above. "Fear not, I'll bring her to thee all safe enough."
Zenas's undisguised willingness to relinquish the maiden into his hands was very puzzling to Sir Richard. Though this perplexity presently gave way to a sense of delightful anticipation. At last, he mused, he was to see her; to hold her hand; to listen to the sweet accents of her voice. He could not control himself in quiet, and went to pacing to and fro across the floor in a fever of impatience.
Above stairs a scene was being enacted that, could he have been witness to it, would have proved highly interesting to the young knight. The half-maniacal hunchback respected and admired his brother, Sir James; he loved his brother's sweet daughter, Rocelia, but he feared and hated Isabel, whom he had never been able to intimidate or make to do his bidding. The maid was indeed possessed of a breezy temper, and upon many an occasion the hunchback had been made to feel the sting of her words. When he had discovered that she was secretly preparing for her departure, he had at once embraced the opportunity to avenge himself, causing her to be imprisoned in earnest. He had overheard her conversation with an emissary of the Renegade Duke, during which Isabel had given her word that she would come to Castle Yewe to join her champion. Isabel had a mind of her own, and a keen appreciation of the welfare of number one. She was, besides, a capital conspiratress, and had availed herself of every chance to acquaint herself with the true character and title of the one whom she had chosen for her champion. When she had grown familiar with Sir Richard's history, she had concluded that through him she might achieve deliverance from her monotonous life under the guardianship of her uncle, Sir James, and at the same time elevate herself to a higher plane within the social world, which were her chief ambitions. She had not been acute enough, however, to be aware that, in promising to go to Yewe, she was but falling into a trap set for her by the Renegade Duke. She still believed that the word was from the Earl of Warwick, by which title she always referred to Sir Richard within her mind.
The blaze of anger with which Isabel now greeted Zenas's advent into her presence subsided quickly when he told her who was waiting to see her below. She made short work of her preparations to depart, promising to do so secretly, and without stopping to bid her cousin or governess a farewell. As the hunchback was preceding her below he was exulting to himself over the circumstance that was to rid him of one of whom he was jealous and hated, and another whom he feared. He looked upon it as a happy stroke of fortune that had put it in his way to send them off together. He chuckled aloud as he thought of how cleverly he was cheating the young knight.
"I am yielding him the wrong maid," he said to himself; "the wrong maid. The saffron gown doth belong to Rocelia, by my faith!"
It seemed an age to Sir Richard before he heard again the hunchback's tread upon the stairs. Another step came to his straining ears, light and firm, with an accompaniment of gently rustling skirts.
What would his first words be? And what her whispered answer? He thought of the saffron patch above his eye and the unkempt growth of beard upon his chin. For but two minutes' service, a barber might have earned a handful of rose nobles.