Forgetting the fact that she was only very lightly clad in a
morning wrap, and that her hair lay loosely about her shoulders, she
flew down the stairs, right through the hall towards the front door.
It was as usual barred and bolted, for the indoor servants
were not yet up; but her keen ears had detected the sound of voices
and the pawing of a horse's hoof against the flag-stones.
With nervous, trembling fingers Marguerite undid the bolts one
by one, bruising her hands, hurting her nails, for the locks were
heavy and stiff. But she did not care; her whole frame shook with
anxiety at the very thought that she might be too late; that he might
have gone without her seeing him and bidding him "God-speed!"
At last, she had turned the key and thrown open the door.
Her ears had not deceived her. A groom was standing close by holding
a couple of horses; one of these was Sultan, Sir Percy's favourite and
swiftest horse, saddled ready for a journey.
The next moment Sir Percy himself appeared round the further
corner of the house and came quickly towards the horses. He had
changed his gorgeous ball costume, but was as usual irreproachably and
richly apparelled in a suit of fine cloth, with lace jabot and
ruffles, high top-boots, and riding breeches.
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