Sir Nicholas' letters became more and more emphatically underlined and
incoherent as the days went on, and Lady Maxwell less and less willing
for Isabel to read them; but the girl often found the old lady hastily
putting away the thin sheets which she had just taken out to read to
herself once again, on which her dear lord had scrawled down his very
heart itself, as if his courting of her were all to do again.
It was not until the Saturday morning that the courier rode in through
the gatehouse with the news that Sir Nicholas was to be released that
day, and would be down if possible before nightfall. All the men on the
estate were immediately called in and sent home to dress themselves; and
an escort of a dozen grooms and servants led by Hubert and Piers rode out
at once on the north road, with torches ready for kindling, to meet the
party and bring them home; and all other preparations were set forward at
once.
Towards eight o'clock Lady Maxwell was so anxious and restless that
Isabel slipped out and went down to the gatehouse to look out for herself
if there were any signs of the approach of the party. She went up to one
of the little octagonal towers, and looked out towards the green.
It was a clear starlight night, but towards the village all was bathed in
the dancing ruddy light of the bonfire. It was burning on a little mound
at the upper end of the green, just below where Isabel stood, and a heavy
curtain of smoke drifted westwards.
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