Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. Marvel, therefore, remained on his probation. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. "Well, I will see him," replied the knight, after a moment's pause; "he may be from the Earl of Mar.
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