Chapter 15 THE LONELY BRIDE

Grace for the callant

If he marries our muckle-mouth Meg.

Browning.

"The recreant! Shall we follow him?" was the cry of Lord Whitburn's younger squire, Harry Featherstone, with his hand on his horse's neck, in spite of the torrents of rain and the fresh flash that set the horses quivering.

"No! no!" roared the Baron. "I tell you no! He