The night seemed to Count Herbert the longest he had ever spent, as he
sat on the bench, listening for the withdrawing of the bolts; if indeed
they were in their sockets, which he doubted. At last the door was
pushed softly open, and bending under the chain, he stood in the
outside hall, peering through the darkness, to catch sight of his
conductor. A great window of stained glass occupied the southern end of
the hall, and against it fell the rays of the full moon now high in the
heavens, filling the dim and lofty apartment with a coloured radiance
resembling his visions of the half tones of fairyland. Like a shadow
stood the cloaked figure of the girl, who timidly placed her small hand
in his great palm, and that touch gave a thrill of reality to the
mysticism of the time and the place. He grasped it closely, fearing it
might fade away from him as it had done in his dream. She led him
silently by another way from that by which he had entered, and together
they passed through a small doorway that communicated with a narrow
circular stair which wound round and round downwards until they came to
another door at the bottom, which let them out in the moonlight at the
foot of a turret.

"Beatrix," whispered the young man, "I am not going to demand you of
the Countess. I shall not be indebted to her for my wife. You must come
with me now."

"No, no," cried the girl shrinking from him, "I cannot go with you thus
surreptitiously, and no one but you and me must ever learn that I led
you from the castle. You shall come for me as a lord should for his
lady, as if he thought her worthy of him."

"Indeed, that do I. Worthy? It is I who am unworthy, but made more
worthy I hope in that you care for me."