"Before I would call that gray carle my father, or his child my wife, may I feel all the hammers of the elves and sprites he keeps tortured within that ugly little prison-house playing a death's march on my body! Holy Saint Dunstan, the timbrel-girls came in time! They say these wizards always have fair daughters, and their love can be no blessing!" As he thus muttered, the door of Sibyll's chamber opened, and she stood before him at the threshold.

Her countenance was very pale, and bore evidence of weeping.

There was a silence on both sides, which the girl was the first to break.
"So, Madge tells me thou art about to leave us ?" "Yes, gentle maiden! I--I--that is, my Lord of Warwick has summoned me.
I wish and pray for all blessings on thee! and--and--if ever it be mine to serve or aid thee, it will be--that is--verily, my tongue falters, but my heart--that is--fare thee well, maiden! Would thou hadst a less wise father; and so may the saints (Saint Anthony especially, whom the Evil One was parlous afraid of) guard and keep thee!" With this strange and incoherent address, Marmaduke left the maiden standing by the threshold of her miserable chamber.

Hurrying into the hall, he summoned Alwyn from his meditations, and, giving the gittern to Madge, with an injunction to render it to her mistress, with his greeting and service, he vaulted lightly on his steed; the steady and more sober Alwyn mounted his palfrey with slow care and due caution.
As the air of spring waved the fair locks of the young cavalier, as the good horse caracoled under his lithesome weight, his natural temper of mind, hardy, healthful, joyous, and world-awake, returned to him.

The image of Sibyll and her strange father fled from his thoughts like sickly dreams..