"To serve me," replied the hermit, smiling; "but it is a light service, and only involves your appearance in this wood once a-year. Are you agreed?"
"I know not," replied the young man distractedly.
"You must make up your mind speedily," said the hermit; "for I hear the approach of the royal cavalcade."
And as he spoke, the mellow notes of a bugle, followed by the baying of hounds, the jingling of bridles, and the trampling of a large troop of horse, were heard at a short distance down the avenue.
"Tell me who you are?" cried Richard.
"I am the hermit of the wood," replied the old man. "Some people call me Hobthurst, and some by other names, but you will have no difficulty in finding me out. Look yonder!" he added, pointing through the trees.
And, glancing in the direction indicated, Richard beheld a small party on horseback advancing across the plain, consisting of his father, his sister, and Alizon, with their attendants.
"'Tis she!—'tis she!" he cried.
"Can you hesitate, when it is to save her?" demanded the old man.
"Heaven help me, or I am lost!" fervently ejaculated Richard, gazing on high while making the appeal.