In a few minutes afterwards, the tread of his horse died away at a considerable distance.
Bridgenorth had held his hand upon his brow ever since his departure, and a tear of anger and shame was on his face as he raised it when the sound was heard no more.

"He carries this answer to Martindale Castle," he said.

"Men will hereafter think of me as a whipped, beaten, dishonourable fellow, whom every one may baffle and insult at their pleasure.

It is well I am leaving the house of my father." Master Solsgrace approached his friend with much sympathy, and grasped him by the hand.

"Noble brother," he said, with unwonted kindness of manner, "though a man of peace, I can judge what this sacrifice hath cost to thy manly spirit.