With such conversation they wandered on for some time, without overtaking the party they had come out to seek. They saw them once at some distance, indeed, through the overhanging boughs of an opposite alley just fringed with early leaves; but they did not hurry their pace, and only met them at length at the door of the hall, as they were all returning. Sir Henry Dacre was then walking by Isabel's side, with his arms crossed upon his chest, and his brow sad and stern. As soon as he saw Catherine and her companion, he fixed his eyes inquiringly upon her, and seemed to mark her heightened colour, and somewhat excited look--then fell into thought again; and then laid his hand upon her arm, saying, "I would speak with you for a moment, Kate."
"It must not be long," she replied, coldly; "for I have dipped my feet in the dew, and would fain dry them."
"It shall not be long," answered Sir Henry Dacre; and he remained with her behind, while the rest entered slowly. Ere they had passed the door, the anxious ear of Isabel heard high tones without; and, in a few minutes, as they paused for a moment in the hall, where the servants were already spreading the board for supper, Sir Henry entered, with a hasty step.
"My horse to the gate!" he said, addressing one of the attendants.
"At what hour, Sir Knight?" asked the servant.
"Directly!" answered Dacre. "The men can follow. Farewell, dear Isabel," he continued, turning to Catherine's cousin; "I can stay no longer.--Farewell, Mary!" He grasped Richard of Woodville's hand, but said nothing; and with a low and formal bow to Hal of Hadnock, turned towards the door leading to the court.
Isabel Beauchamp followed him quietly, laid her hand upon his arm, and spoke eagerly, but in a low tone.
"I cannot, I cannot, Isabel," he replied, aloud. "Dear girl, do not urge me. I shall forget myself--I shall go mad. Excuse me to your noble father--farewell!" and opening the large door, he issued forth, and closed it behind him.
Isabel Beauchamp turned with her eyes full of tears; but passing the rest silently, as if afraid to speak, she hurried to her own chamber, wept for a few minutes, and then sought her father.
The supper that day was a grave and silent meal. There was a stern cloud on old Sir Philip Beauchamp's brow when he came down to the hall; and, as he took his seat he asked, looking round, "Where is Catherine?"