the eyes of the Lady Beatrice, for he felt that never more would she
believe him a true knight.

The world was full of flying leaves, for it was autumn; then the winds
died and the snows came. Bitter winter chained the mountain streams and
laid the forests asleep. The stars shone blue, and on the windowpanes
were fairy pictures.

Now the time drew near the birth of Christ, and one day Sir Godfrey
was overjoyed to receive a message from the Lady Beatrice, bidding him
to a feast on Christmas Eve. It seemed to him that he could not wait
for the hour to come, and all that day he thought upon the joy of
beholding her again.

Towards nightfall the wind rose and the snow began to fly, but to Sir
Godfrey it was as if the air were full of dainty flowers. Nor did he
regard the cold nor the whistling tempest, but rode in deep joy and
humility to the castlegate of the Lady Beatrice.

When he had nearly reached it he heard a feeble voice crying: "Stop, Sir
Knight; for the love of heaven, stop!" and looking down he saw a bent old
woman holding her hands out to him in supplication.

Every moment's delay was as the point of a sharp sword against his heart,
but he had himself suffered too much to turn from the voice of pain; and
leaning from his saddle he said, "What can I do for you, Mother?"

"Sir Knight," she replied, "my home lies on the farther side of the Dark
Wood, and the neighbor who was to convey me thither has no doubt
forgotten his promise. I have a sick son there for whose sake I made this