The rest of the day is their own.' So saying, Roger Heywood turned away, in no small distress, although he concealed it, both at the loss of the mare and his son's grief over it.
Betaking himself to his study, he plunged himself straightway deep in the comfort of the last born and longest named of Milton's tracts.
The moment he was gone, Richard, who had now made up his mind as to his first procedure, sent Stopchase away, saddled Oliver, rode slowly out of the yard, and struck across the fields.

After a half-hour's ride he stopped at a lonely cottage at the foot of a rock on the banks of the Usk.

There he dismounted, and having fastened his horse to the little gate in front, entered a small garden full of sweet-smelling herbs mingled with a few flowers, and going up to the door, knocked, and then lifted the latch..