But see--look yonder, May Catharine--look yonder! That flying messenger certainly brings news of the battle." "Methinks I should know him who runs so wildly," said Catharine.

"But if it be he I think of, some wild thoughts are urging his speed." As she spoke, the runner directed his course to the garden.

Louise's little dog ran to meet him, barking furiously, but came back, to cower, creep, and growl behind its mistress; for even dumb animals can distinguish when men are driven on by the furious energy of irresistible passion, and dread to cross or encounter them in their career.

The fugitive rushed into the garden at the same reckless pace.

His head was bare, his hair dishevelled, his rich acton and all his other vestments looked as if they had been lately drenched in water.