are to be there before the drawbridge rises at
the vespers bugle; for it is likely that sir Nigel, being so renowned a
soldier, may keep hard discipline within the walls, and let no man enter
after sundown." So saying, he quickened his pace, and the three comrades
were soon close to the straggling and broad-spread town which centered
round the noble church and the frowning castle.

It chanced on that very evening that Sir Nigel Loring, having supped
before sunset, as was his custom, and having himself seen that Pommers
and Cadsand, his two war-horses, with the thirteen hacks, the five
jennets, my lady's three palfreys, and the great dapple-gray roussin,
had all their needs supplied, had taken his dogs for an evening
breather. Sixty or seventy of them, large and small, smooth and
shaggy--deer-hound, boar-hound, blood-hound, wolf-hound, mastiff, alaun,
talbot, lurcher, terrier, spaniel--snapping, yelling and whining, with
score of lolling tongues and waving tails, came surging down the narrow
lane which leads from the Twynham kennels to the bank of Avon. Two
russet-clad varlets, with loud halloo and cracking whips, walked
thigh-deep amid the swarm, guiding, controlling, and urging. Behind
came Sir Nigel himself, with Lady Loring upon his arm, the pair walking
slowly and sedately, as befitted both their age and their condition,
while they watched with a smile in their eyes the scrambling crowd in
front of them. They paused, however, at the bridge, and, leaning their
elbows upon the stonework, they stood looking down at their own faces in
the glassy stream, and at the swift flash of speckled trout against the
tawny gravel.

Sir Nigel was a slight man of poor stature, with soft lisping voice and
gentle ways. So short was he that his wife, who was no very tall woman,
had the better of him by the breadth of three fingers. His sight having
been injured in his early wars by a basketful of lime which had been
emptied over him when he led the Earl of Derby's stormers up the breach
at Bergerac, he had contracted something of a stoop, with a blinking,
peering expression of face. His age was six and forty, but the constant
practice of arms, together with a cleanly life, had preserved his
activity and endurance unimpaired, so that from a distance he seemed to
have the slight limbs and swift grace of a boy. His face, however, was
tanned of a dull yellow tint, with a leathery, poreless look, which
spoke of rough outdoor doings, and the