"Run!" he panted, "run, master—I ha' just seen a goblin—run, master!"
Now beholding the terror in Roger's eyes, Beltane unsheathed his sword.
"Show me, Roger," said he.
"Nay, lord—of what avail? Let's away, this place is rank o' deviltries and witchcraft—"
"Show me, Roger—come!"
Perforce, Roger led the way, very heedful to avoid each patch of shadow, until they were come opposite that cave where aforetime Beltane had been customed to sleep. Here Roger paused.
"Master," he whispered, "there is a thing within that groaneth— goblin-groans, master. A thing very like unto a goblin, for I ha' seen it —a pale thing that creepeth—holy saints, 'tis here again—hark to it!"
And in very truth Beltane heard a sound the which, soft though it was, checked his breath and chilled his flesh; and, as he peered into the gloomy recesses of the cavern, there moved something vague amid the shadows, something that rose up slow and painfully.
Roger was down gasping on his knees, Beltane's hand was tight-clenched upon the hilt of his sword, as out into the moonlight crept one, very bent and feeble, shrouded in a long grey cloak; a pitiful figure, that, leaning a hand upon the rock, slowly raised a drooping head. Then Beltane saw that this was the witch Jolette.
A while she stood thus, one hand supporting her against the rocky bank, the other hid within the folds of her long mantle.
"O my lord!" said she, low-voiced, "all day long my heart hath been calling—calling to thee; so art come at last—thanks be to God—O my lord Beltane!"