St. George and St. Michael. Volume II

The voice of her lost Marquis, which even in her dreams she could / attribute to none but him, roused Dorothy at once. She sprang from / her bed, flew to the window, and flung it wide. That same moment, / from the shadows about the hall-door, came forth a man on horseback, / and rode along the tiled path to the fountain, where never had hoof / of horse before trod. Stranger still, the tramp sounded far away, / and woke no echo in the echo-haunted place. A phantom surely -- horse / and man! As they drew nearer where she stared with wide eyes, the / head of the rider rose out of the shadow into the moonlight, and she / recognised the face of Richard -- very white and still, though not, as / she supposed, with the whiteness and stillness of a spectre, but / with the concentration of eagerness and watchful resolution. The / same moment she recognised Lady. She trembled from head to foot. / What could it mean but that beyond a doubt they were both dead, / slain in battle, and that Richard had come to pay her a last visit / ere he left the world. On they came. Her heart swelled up into her / throat, and the effort to queen it over herself, and neither shriek / nor drop on the floor, was like struggling to support a falling / wall.

When the spectre reached the marble fountain, he gave a little / start, drew bridle, and seemed to become aware that he had taken a / wrong path, looked keenly around him, and instead of continuing his / advance towards her window, turned in the direction of the gate. One / thing was clear, that whether ghostly or mortal, whether already / dead or only on the way to death, the apparition was regardless of / her presence. A pang of disappointment shot through her bosom, and / for the moment quenched her sense of relief from terror. With it / sank the typhoon of her emotion, and she became able to note how / draggled and soiled his garments were, how his hair clung about his / temples, and that for all accoutrement his mare had but a halter. / Yet Richard sat erect and proud, and Lady stepped like a mare full / of life and vigour. And there was Marquis, not cowering or howling / as dogs do in spectral presence, but madly bounding and barking as / if in uncontrollable jubilation!