You told me that you and your father were wont to go out together in the morning.

Have I your leave, Sir," and he turned to Castell, "to ride with you before breakfast, say, at seven of the clock, for I would show the lady, your daughter, how she should manage a horse of this blood, which is something of a trick ?" "If you will," answered Castell--"that is, if the weather is fine," for the offer was made so courteously that it could scarcely be refused.
D'Aguilar bowed, and they re-entered the house, talking of other matters.

When they were in the hall again, he asked whether their kinsman Peter had reached his destination safely, adding: "I pray you, do not tell me where it is, for I wish to be able to put my hand upon my heart and swear to all concerned, and especially to certain fellows who are still seeking for him, that I know nothing of his hiding-place." Castell answered that he had, since but a few minutes before a letter had come from him announcing his safe arrival, tidings at which Margaret looked up, then, remembering her promise, said that she was glad to hear of it, as the roads were none too safe, and spoke indifferently of something else.

D'Aguilar added that he also was glad, then, rising, took his leave "till seven on the morrow." When he had gone, Castell gave Margaret a letter, addressed to her in Peter's stiff, upright hand, which she read eagerly.

It began and ended with sweet words, but, like his speech, was brief and to the point, saying only that he had accomplished his journey without adventure, and was very glad to find himself again in the old house where he was born, and amongst familiar fields and faces.