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Father Philip had taken kindly to Crowleigh from the first, and was grateful to him for the skill and patience he had bestowed upon him on his previous visit, and he was ready enough to accede to any request, whatever it might be, that his Dorothy, his beloved Dorothy, thought well to ask.
Crowleigh had returned, and so had the rest, but their tales were alike despondent; none of them had discovered a trace, and good Father Nicholas had found it a difficult task under the circumstances to revive the drooping spirit of his master. "No luck, Sir Thomas, naught but ill news," said the baron, as he replied to his friend's greeting; "'tis an ill wind this.
From one extreme the religious laws had gone to the other; and so it befell that the father, to his exceeding great regret, found himself dying with never a minister of his own persuasion near at hand. Crowleigh again came to his relief. He had a friend, a staunch Catholic who had been expelled from Oxford University soon after Elizabeth's accession on account of his strong religious views.
Drink this," and he filled his horn with water and offered it to him. De la Zouch took the water and drank it off. It appeared to do him good, for he rapidly rallied, and the reassuring words of Crowleigh had a magical effect in clearing his brow and helping on his recovery. "Am I much hurt?" he inquired with a look of intense agony upon his brow. "Bruised and stunned, I think, that is all.
Disdaining the highway, they followed the beaten path which led through the wood to Rowsley, Crowleigh doing his part to aid his friend by walking on with Margaret in front, and so deeply engaged her interest by recounting some of his adventures in badger hunting that she entirely forgot her sister, who followed behind her in a more leisurely fashion with Master Manners.
As the shades of evening crept silently on, and the cooler air began to assert itself over the torrid atmosphere of the day, Sir Everard Crowleigh opened the campaign on behalf of his companion by suggesting that a walk would not only be refreshing to the two maidens, but also positively beneficial.
"At Cromford he set a pack of knaves upon me," pursued De la Zouch, with the coolest audacity. "I was almost murdered; I tried to save her, but what could I do? They were ten to one, and whilst I fought like a madman, Dorothy and Manners laughed at me to my face and rode off together." "You lie," returned Crowleigh, hotly.
"Sir Benedict knows leechcraft, let us take his opinion upon its merits. "Nay," laughingly responded Margaret, "Cousin Benedict, I fear, is too much engaged in other affairs to attend to us just now." "Why, how?" asked Crowleigh in surprise, "surely no one would be ungallant enough not to lend their services to two such fair maidens. Never! I cannot conceive it."
Crowleigh roused himself as it died away, and came to the resolution that it was high time to announce his presence; and failing to distinguish any signs to intimate that his friend's prayers were nearing conclusion he advanced towards him. He had scarcely moved a step when he started back with horror.
"I expected about as much," she went on, "and I want to cure him; what shall we do?" "Salt him," slyly suggested Dorothy, "that is the usual way." "Fasten him down in the box for the night," suggested Crowleigh. "We will," she said; "here is the lid, we can easily fasten it down so that he cannot undo it, and we will have a peep at him to see that he is not smothered when we come back."
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