It was growing dusk as he rode through the woods that skirted his domains, but it was quite light enough to enable him to distinguish the castle. His heart was sad as he gazed at it for he felt he could not remain there. The place seemed his own no longer.
However, he strove to stifle these painful feelings, and they soon gave way to other emotions.
Still, he could not banish the notion that the place was changed, though in what respect he could scarcely tell, for a groom came to take his horse, and Newbiggin welcomed him at the entrance, and with a manifestation of delight that could not fail to touch his master.
“I hope your lordship is coming to remain with us—at least, for a few days?” said the butler.
“Alas! no,” replied the earl. “I must return to Hexham to-night, and to-morrow morning we march to Rothbury.”
The butler looked quite cast down.
“I fear Dilston will never again be what it was, my lord,” he said. “How I wish your lordship could give up this perilous expedition and return to us.”
“That is impossible, Newbiggin,” said the earl, scarcely able to repress a sigh. “I must go on now. But where is the countess?”
“She is here,” cried a well-known voice.
And next moment she flew towards him, and was clasped in his arms.