many, only to leave his arm torn and bleeding. . . Yet at last the sun
had moved--it was up among the thinner branches.

Of a sudden, back in the forest rose the deep bay of a mastiff . . .
and presently again--and nearer . . . and a third time--and still
nearer . . . and then down the path came the great tawny dog, tail
arched forward, head up--and behind him a bay horse, a woman in the
saddle.

"Down, Rollo, down!" she cried, as the mastiff sprang ahead. . .
"Beside me, sir!" and the dog whirled instantly and obeyed.

De Lacy bethought himself of his cloak, and hurrying to where it lay he
tried to fling it around his shoulders, but with only one hand and his
haste he managed badly and it slipped off and fell to the ground. As
he seized it again the horse halted behind him.

"You are wounded, sir," she said; "permit me to aid you."

He turned slowly, bowing as he did so--he dared not speak--then glanced
up, and almost spoke in sheer amazement, as he beheld the slender
figure in green velvet--the sweet, bow-shaped mouth, the high-bred,
sensitive nose, the rounded chin, the tiny ear, the soft, deep grey
eyes, and, crowning all, the great rolls of the auburn hair that
sunbeams spin to gold.

"Come, sir," said she, "I stopped to aid you, not to be stared at."

De Lacy flushed and made to speak, then checked himself, and with
another bow held up his arm and motioned for her to cut the cord.