"He is constancy itself--
while the fit lasts," he added, aside.
"You hear what my friend says, sweetheart," observed Harry; "and I
assure you he has the best opportunities of judging. But I'll be sworn
you did not believe your grand-sire when he thus maligned the king."
"She contradicted me flatly," said Tristram. "But pour out the mead,
girl; our guests are waiting for it."
While Mabel, in compliance with her grandsire's directions, filled the
horn, the door of the cottage was noiselessly opened by Morgan
Fenwolf, who stepped in, followed by Bawsey. He stared inquisitively at
the strangers, but both were so much occupied by the damsel that he
remained unnoticed. A sign from the old forester told him he had better
retire: jealous curiosity, however, detained him, and he tarried till Harry
had received the cup from Mabel, and drained it to her health. He then
drew back, closed the door softly, and joined a dark and mysterious
figure, with hideous lineaments and an antlered helm upon its brows,
lurking outside the cottage.
Meanwhile, a cup of mead having been offered to Brandon, he observed
to his companion, "We must now be setting forth on our journey.
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