ou
will not have one to look after."

Edmund had, in fact, been thrown down just over his knife, and
very soon finding this out he had, by dint of considerable trouble,
succeeded in cutting the cord which bound his wrists, and was busily
engaged in freeing his legs by a similar process when he unfortunately
attracted the attention of the Queen's Councillor.

No time was lost in securing him afresh. In spite of his strenuous
efforts he was quickly overpowered, and after all his labour he only
found himself more hopelessly a prisoner than he had been before.

"Why, the fellow must be bewitched," exclaimed Sir George, "I never
saw his like before. Take him away before he does us any injury. Take
him away, we don't want him here."

"He is safe enough now, my lord."

"Take him away, I say," repeated the baron. "We want him here no
longer. Do you hear me, sirrah! Take him away I say, and lock him
up in safety," and amid the oft-continued reiteration of the baron's
order, Edmund Wynne was carried below and consigned to the care of
the ostler until such time as the gaol officials could be conveniently
communicated with.

CHAPTER XII.

A CONFESSION OF LOVE.

It was my fortune, common to that age,
To love a lady fair, of great degree,
The which was born of noble parentage.
And set in highest seat of dignity.

SPENSER.

The sun was declining, after a gorgeous display of its fiery hues;
gilding with a translucent light the grey walls of Haddon, and casting
weird shadows on the closely-cropped bowling green, when two figures
emerged from the shades of the neighbouring wood and passed into the
meadow which lies below the Hall.

Sir George Vernon had not yet returned from London; indeed, nothing
but a note from Margaret's lover had given them any information about
the two travellers since they had departed, six days ago, and although
news of them was now considered overdue, yet, in those days of bad
roads and slow travelling, communications from distant places were
never, or seldom at best, rapidly transmitted, and, bearing this in
mind, no concern was felt on that account.

Haddon, usually so gay, wore for the time being a sombre aspect. Sir
George was its life and soul, and now that he was away and exposed to
the machinations of enemies who were hungering and thirsting after a
share of his riches, a gloom settled down upon the place and enveloped
it in an ill-befitting aspect of dreariness. Ba