journey. Wilt thou, for the love of heaven, take me up behind thee and
convey me through the Dark Wood to my dwelling? I cannot walk through
this tempest, and my son may die."

Then Sir Godfrey was as a man turned into marble by enchantment, and his
heart was sore with struggle. Before him were the lights of the castle
which held his love. If he carried this woman to her home, he could not
see his Lady Beatrice, who, perhaps, would never forgive him for not
appearing at her summons.

The thought was as death to him, and he looked broodingly down at the
poor woman. "I am bidden to a feast, Mother," he said, "the porter of
this castle will give you shelter for the night, and in the morning I
will convey you through the Dark Wood to your home."

"The morning may be too late, Sir Knight," she said sadly.

Then without a word Sir Godfrey turned his horse, and though his heart
was like lead, he bent a cheerful countenance to the stranger, and
assisted her to the place behind the saddle, and off they rode together
through the night and storm.

Sir Godfrey spoke but little, since his thoughts were with the Lady
Beatrice and the empty chair at the feast which should have been his. He
saw her face imprinted on the night's dark veil and heard her voice
calling him on the whistling wind. The old woman behind him muttered of
the storm while on and on they rode.

At last they entered the Dark Wood, and here they made slower progress,
for the light of Sir Godfrey's little lantern was feeble and the trees