Morgan Fenwolf hastily asked whether her grandsire was at home, or near at hand, and being answered in the negative, appeared much disappointed. He then said that he must borrow the skiff for a short while, as he wished to visit some nets on the lake. Mabel readily assented, and the stranger quitted the house, while Fenwolf lingered to offer some attention to Mabel, which was so ill received that he was fain to hurry forth to the boathouse, where he embarked with his companion. As soon as the plash of oars announced their departure, Mabel went forth to watch them. The stranger, who was seated in the stern of the boat, for the first time fixed his large melancholy eyes full upon her, and did not withdraw his gaze till an angle of the lake hid him from view.
Marvelling who he could be, and reproaching herself for not questioning Fenwolf on the subject, Mabel resolved to repair the error when the skiff was brought back. But the opportunity did not speedily occur. Hours flew by, the shades of evening drew on, but neither Fenwolf nor the stranger returned.
Soon after dusk her grandfather came home. He did not express the least astonishment at Fenwolf's prolonged absence, but said that he was sure to be back in the course of the evening, and the skiff was not wanted.
“He will bring us a fine jack or a carp for dinner to-morrow, I'll warrant me,” he said. “If he had returned in time we might have had fish for supper. No matter. I must make shift with the mutton pie and a rasher of bacon. Morgan did not mention the name of his companion, you say?”
“He did not,” replied Mabel; “but I hope he will bring him with him. He is the goodliest gentleman I ever beheld.”
“What! a goodlier gentleman than the king!” cried Tristram.
“Nay, they should not be compared,” replied Mabel: “the one is stout and burly; the other slight, long-visaged, and pale, but handsome withal—very handsome.”
“Well, I daresay I shall see him anon,” said Tristram. “And now for supper, for I am as sharp-set as a wolf; and so is old Hubert,” he added, glancing affectionately at the hound by which he was attended.
Mabel placed the better part of a huge pie before him, which the old forester attacked with great zeal. He then fell to work upon some slices of bacon toasted over the embers by his granddaughter, and having washed them down with a jug of mead, declared he had supped famously. While taking care of himself, he did not forget his hound. From time to time he threw him morsels of the pie, and when he had done he gave him a large platterful of bones.
“Old Hubert has served me faithfully nigh twenty years,” he said, patting the hound's shaggy neck, “and must not be neglected.”