As far as the sheep-tending arrangements were concerned, to-night was but a repetition of the foregoing one.

Between ten and eleven o'clock the old shepherd withdrew as usual for what sleep at home he might chance to get without interruption, making up the other necessary hours of rest at some time during the day; the boy was left alone.
The frost was the same as on the night before, except perhaps that it was a little more severe.

The moon shone as usual, except that it was three- quarters of an hour later in its course; and the boy's condition was much the same, except that he felt no sleepiness whatever.

He felt, too, rather afraid; but upon the whole he preferred witnessing an assignation of strangers to running the risk of being discovered absent by the old shepherd.
It was before the distant clock of Shakeforest Towers had struck eleven that he observed the opening of the second act of this midnight drama.

It consisted in the appearance of neither lover nor Duchess, but of the third figure--the stout man, booted and spurred--who came up from the easterly direction in which he had retreated the night before.