Turning from her in anger, home went he, and flung himself before the
dying fire in his chamber, a frown between his brows. And again a cold
fear turned closely about his heart. Raising his eyes, he saw no more
terrible a thing than his young bride, with a face of grievous pain,
looking upon him from the door. Then he spoke her gently.

"Come," quoth he, "sad-faced one, why dost thou torment me? One question
only shall I ask thee, and this must thou answer. Whom hast thou met upon
the hill? For the witch woman hath told me a wearisome tale, which I shall
not lend my ear to."

Now, when he spoke, his young bride neither answered nor came, but gazed
from the threshold upon him in silence. So he got up in anger and went her
way. Through the chamber strode he, and she was yet before him, and
without sound went she down the hall and stair. So out through the open
door, and the men-at-arms let her pass, though the Black Earl bid them
stay her feet, and gazed bewildered, seeing only their stern master
running alone, with fierce eyes, such as a hound doth cast upon a young
hare. Quick as the Black Earl ran, the little bride was before.

Through sleepy woods and honey-perfumed plains, all through the night did
he chase her, but never once did he reach her, nor ever once did she pause
to rest.

When the morning sun was high, she led him up to the lights of Brown
Kippure, and there vanished from his sight.

Now, when the Black Earl perceived this wondrous thing, he felt his heart
sink with utter weariness, and without more seeking fell upon the moss.