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About The Montgomery monitor. (Mt. Vernon, Montgomery County, Ga.) 1886-current | View Entire Issue (July 19, 1906)
'wmmu faita . %&>\ Copyr icjhtecL 1894- By HArpcr 5-BrotUCT3. •' Synopsis of preceding chapters at end of this installment. CHAPTER IX. Sir Nisei, who had entered the room with a silvery-haired old lady upon his arm. stared aghast at this sudden burst of candor. , . , . ‘•Maude, Maude!” said he, shaking his head, "it is more hard for me to | gain obedience from you than from the i tenscore drunken archers who followed me to Guinne. Yet, hush! little one, for your fair lady-mother will be here anori, and there is no need that she should know it. We will keep you from the provost-marshal this journey. Away to your chamber, sweeting, and j keep' a blithe face, for she who con fesses is shriven. And now. fair moth er." he continued, when his daughter ( had gone, "sit you here by the fire, for your blood runs colder than it did. Alleyne Edricson, I would have a word with vou, for 1 would fain that you should take service under me. And here in good time comes my lady, with out whose counsel it is not my wont to decide aught to import: but. indeed, it was her own thought that you should come.” „ , , "For I have formed a good opinion of you, and can see that you are one who may be trusted.” said the Lady I coring. “And in good sooth my dear lord hath need of such a one by liis side, for he recks so little of himself that there should be one there to look to his needs and meet his wants. You have seen the cloister; it were well that you should see the world, too, ere you make choice for life between them. ’ “You can ride?" asked Sir Nigel, looking at the youth with puckered "Yes, I have ridden much at the ab bey.” . . . . "Yet there is a difference betwixt a friar's hack and a warrior’s destrier. You can sing and play?” "On citole, flute and rebeck. “Good! You can read blazonry? "Indifferent well.” "I trust that you ere lowly and ser viceable?” ... , . „ "I have served all ny life, my lord. "Canst carve too?’ •I have carved mo days a week for the brethren.” ”A model truly! Wilt make a squire of squires. But toll me, pray, canst curl hair?” ■ No. my lord, but I could learn. "It is of Import,” said he, "for I love to keep my hair well ordered, see ing that the weight of my helmet for thirty years hath in some degree frayed It upon the top.” „ “It is for you also to bear the purse, said the lady; “fur my sweet lord is of so free and gracious a temper that he would give it gayly to the first who asked alms of him. All these things, with some knowledge of venerie, and of the management of horse, hawk, and hound, with the grace and hardihood and courtesy which are proper to your age, will make you a fit squire for Sir Nigel Loring” “Alas, lady!” Alleyne answered, "I know well the great honor that you have done me in deeming me worthy to wait upon so renowned a knight, vet I am so conscious of my own weak ness that I scarce dare incur duties which I might be so ill fitted to fulfil. "Modestv and a humble mind, said she "are the very first and rarest gifts in page or squire. Your words prove that you have these, and all the rest is but the work of use and of time. "We can scarce hope,” said Sir Nigel, "to have all ready for our start before the feast of St. Luke, for there is much to be done in the time. You will have leisure, therefore, if it please you to take service under me, in which to learn your devoir.” "And I have one favor to crave from vou,” added the lady of the castle, as Alleyne turned to leave their presence. "You have, as I understand, much learning, which you have acquired at Beaulieu. I would have you give an hour or two a day whilst you are with us in discoursing with my daughter, the Lady Maude; for she is somewhat backward, I fear, and hath no love for letters, save for these poor -fond ro mances, which do but fill her empty head with dreams of enchanted maid ens and of errant cavalier. Father Christopher comes over after nones from the Priory, but he is stricken with vehrs and slow of speech, so that she gets small profit from his teaching. I would have you do what you can with her, and with Agatha, my young tire woman, and with Dorothy Pierpont. And so Alleyne found himself not only chosen as squire to a knight, but also as squire to three damozels, which was even further from the part which he had thought to play in the world. And now there came a time of stir and bustle, of furbishing of arms and clang of hammer from all the south land counties. Fast spread the tidings, from thorpe to thorpe and from castle to castle, that the old game was afoot once more, and the lions and lilies to be in the field with the early spring. Great news this for that fierce old country whose trade for a generation had been war, her exports archers and her imports prisoners. For six years her sons had chafed under an unwonted peace. Now they flew to their arms as to their birthright. The old soldiers of Crecy, of Nogent, and of Poictiers were gi;id to think that they hear the war-trumpet onoe more, ana gladder still were the hot youth who hud chaffed for years under the mar tial tales of their sires. To pierce the great mountains of the south, to nght the tamers of the fiery Moors, to fol low the greatest captain of the age, to find sunny cornfields and vineyards, when the marches of Picardy and Nor mandy were as bare and bleak as the Jedburgh forests —here was prospects for a race of warriors. From sea to sea there was stringing of bows in the cottage and clang of steel in the < a Nor’did it take long for every strong hold to pour forth its cavalry, and every hamlet its footmen. Through the late autumn and the early winter every road and country lane resounded with nakir and trumpet, with the neigh of the war-horse and the clatter of march ln?nlTthe ancient and populous county of Hampshire there was no lack of leaders or of soldiers for a service which promised either honor or pront. Greatest of all the musters, however, was that at Twynham Castle, for the name and the fame of Sir Nigel Loring drew toward him the keenest and bold est spirits, all eager to serve under so valiant a leader. Archers from the New Forest and the Forest of Bere, blllmen from the pleasant country which is watered by the Stour, the Avon, and the Itchen, young cavaliers from the ancient Hampshire houses, ail were pushing for Christchurch to take service under the banner of the five scarlet roses. . And now. could Sir Nigel have shown the bachelles of land which the laws of rank required, he might well have cut his forked pennon Into a square banner, and taken such a following into the field as would have supported the dlgnitv of a banneret. But poverty was heavy upon him; his land was scant, his coffers empty, and the very castle which covered him the holding of another. Sore was his heart when he saw rare bowmen and war-hardened spearmen turned away from his ifates for the lack of the money which might P’nuip and pay them. Yet the letter which Avlward had brought him grave him powers which he was not slow use. In it Sir Claude the Gas con lieutenant of the White assured him that there remained ini his keeping enough to fit out a hundred archers and twenty men-at-arms, which. Joined to the three hundred vet eran companions already in France, would make a force which any leader might be proud to command, care fully and sagaciously the veteran knight chose out his meu from the swarm of volunteers. Many an anxious consultation he held with Black Simon, 1 Sam Aylward, and others of his more experienced followers, as to who should come and who Should stay. By All l Saint’s Day, however, he had filled up ! his full numbers, and mustered under his banner as stout a following of Hampshire foresters as ever twanged j their war-bows. Twenty men-at-arms, | too, well mounted and equipped, formed the cavalry of the party, while young ! Peter Terlake of Fareham, and Walter j Ford of Botley, the martial sons of martial sires, came at their own cost : to wait upon Sir Nigel and to share | with Alleyne Edricson the duties ot : Ills squireship. Yet. even after the enrolment, there was much tu be done ere the party could proceed upon its way. For ar mor, swords, and lances there was no need to take much forethought, for they were to be had better and cheaper in Bordeaux than in England. With the long-bow, however, it was differ ent. Yew-staves indeed might be got in Spain, but it was well to take enough and to spare with him. Then three spare cords should be carried for each bow, with a great store of arrow-heads, besides the brigandinos of chain-mail, the wadded steel caps, and the bras sarts or arm-guards, which were the proper equipment of the archer. Above all, the women for miles round were hard at work cutting the white sur coats which were the badge of the company, and adorning them with the red lion of St. George upon the centre of the breast. When all was completed and the muster called in the castle yard, the oldest soldier of the French wars was fain to confess that he had never looked upon a better equipped or more warlike body of men, from the knight with his silk jupon, sitting his great black war-horse in the front of them, to Hordle John, the giant re cruit, who leaned carelessly upon a huge black bow-stave in the rear. Os the six score, fully half had seen ser vice before, while • a fair sprinkling were men who had followed the wars all their lives, and had a hand in those battles which had made the whole world ring with the fame and the won der of the English infantry. Six long weeks were taken in these preparations, and it was close on Mar tinmas ere all was ready for a start. Nigh two months had Alleyne Edric ‘A HEARTFELT ANSWER WAS ON HER LIPS WHEN A HOARSE SHOUT ROSEIJP FROM THE BAILEY BELOW.” son been in Castle Twynham—months which were fated to turn the whole current of his life, to divert it from that dark and lonely bourne toward which it tended, and to guide it into freer and more sunlit channels. Al ready he had learned to bless his father for that wise provision which had made him seek to know the world ere he had ventured to renounce it. For it was a different place from that which he had pictured—very dif ferent from that which he had heard described when the master of the nov ices held forth to his charges upon tne ravening wolves who lurked for them beyond the peaceful folds of Beaulieu. There was cruelty in it, doubtless, and lust and sin and sorrow; but were there not virtues to atone, robust, positive virtues, which did not shrink from temptation, which held their own in all the rough blasts of the workaday world? How colorless by contrast ap peared the sinlessness which came from inability to sin. the conquest which was attained by flying from the enemy! Abbot Berghersh was a good man, but i how was he better than this kindly knight, who lived as simple a life, held as lofty and inflexible an Ideal of whatever came to his hand to do? In turning from the service of the one to that of the other, Alleyne could not feel ' that he was lowering his aims in life. ’ Henceforth for seven hours a day he i strove in the tilt-yard to qualify him self to be a worthy squire to so worthy a knight. Young, supple, and active, with all the pent energies from years of pure and healthy living, it was not long before he could manage his horse and his weapon well enough to earn an approving nod from critical men-at arms, or to hold his own against Ter lake and Ford, his fellow-squires. But were there no other considera tions which swaved him from the cloisters toward the world? Here, day after day, for an hour after drones, and for an hour before vespers, he found himself In close communion with three maidens, all young, all fair, and all therefore doubly dangerous from the monkish stand-point. Yet he found that In their presence he was conscious of a quick sympathy, a pleasant ease, a readv response to all that was most gentle and best In himself, which filled hl« soul with a vague and new-found Joy. And vet the Lady Maude Lorlne wa« no easv pupil to handle An older and more world-wise man might have been puzzled bv her varying moods, her sud den prejudices, her quick resentment of all constraints and authority. Did a subject interest her was there space in it for either romance or Imagina tion. she would flv through It with her subtle active mind, leaving her two fel low-students and even her teacher toll ing behind her On the other hand, were these dull patience needed with steady tofl and strain of memory, no single fact could, bv anv driving, be flxed in her mind. Alleyne might talk to her of the stories of old gods and heroes, of gallant deeds and lofty alms, or he might hold forth upon moon and stars, and let his fancy wander over the hidden secrets of the universe, and lie would have a rapt listener witli flushed cheeks and eloquent eyes, who could repeat after him the very words which had fallen from ills lips. But when it came to almagest and astrol able. tlic counting of figures and reck oning of epicycles, away would go her thoughts to horse and hound, and a va cant eye and listless face would warn the teacher that he had lost his hold upon his scholar. Then he had but to bring out the old romance-book from the Priory, with befingered cover of sheepskin and gold letters upon a pur ple ground to entice her wayward mind back to the paths of learning. At times, too, when the wild fit was upon her, she would break into pert ness and rebel openly against Alleyne’s gentle firmness. Y r ot he would jog quietly on with his teachings, taking no heed to her mutiny, until suddenly she would he conquered by his patience, and break Into self-revilings a hun dred times stronger than her fault de manded. It chanced, however, that, on one of these mornings when the evil mood was upon her, Agatha, the young tire-woman, thinking to please her mis tress, began also to toss her head and make tart rejoinder to the teacher’s questions. In an Instant the Lady Maude had turned upon her two blaz ing eyes and a face which was blanched with anger. “You would dare!” said she. “You would dare!” The frightened tire-woman tried to excuse herself. “But, my fair lady,” she stammered, "what have I done? I have said no more than I heard.” "You would dare!” repeated the lady, in a choking voice. "You, a graceless baggage, a foolish lack-brain, with no thought above the hemming of shifts! And he so kindly and hendy and long suffering! You would —ha, you may well flee the room!” She had spoken with a rising voice, and a clasping and opening of her long white fingers, so that it was no marvel that, ere the speecli was over, the skirts of Agatha were whisking round the door and the click of her sobs to be heard dying swiftly away down the corridor. Alleyne stored open-eyed at this tigress who had sprung so suddenly to his rescue. “There is no need for such anger,” he said mildly. “The maid’s words have done me no scath. It is you yourself who have erred.” "I know it," she cried; “J am a most wicked woman. But it is bad enougli that one should misuse you. I will see that there Is not a second one.” "Nay, riay, no one has misused me,” he answered. "But the fault lies m your hot and bitter words. You have called her a baggage and a lack-brain, and I know not what.” "And you are he who taught me i« speak the truth!” she cried. “Now I have spoken it, and yet 1 cannot please you. Back-brain she Is, and lack-brain I shall call her.” Such was a sample of the sudden janglings which marred the peace of that little class. And yet, there were times when Alleyne had to ask himself whether it was not the Lady Maude who was gaining sway and influence over him. If she were changing, so was he. In vain he strove and reasoned with himself as to the madness of let ting his mind rest upon Sir Nigel's laughter. Stronger than reason, strong er than cloister teachings, stronger than all that might hold him back, was that old, old tyrant who will brook no rival in the kingdom of youth. He had scarce dared to face the change which had come upon hirn, when a few sudden chance words showed it ill up bard and clear, like lightning in the darkness. He had ridden over to Boole, one November day. with his fellow-squire, Peter Terlake. in quest of certain yew staves from Wat Swathling, the Dor setshire armorer. Peter was a hard, wiry brown-faced country-bred lad, who looked on the coming war as the chooi-boy looks on his holidays This day, however, he had been sombre and mute, with scarce a word a mile to be stow upon his comrade. "Tell me. Alleyne Rdrlcson.” be broke out suddenly, "has it not seemed to you that of late the Lady Maude is paler and more silent than Is her wont?” “It may be so,” {he other answered shortly. "And would rather slf distrait by her oriel than rfde gavlv to the chase as of old. Methlnks Allevnc it |s this learn ing which you have taught her that has taken all the life and sap from her.” "Her ladv-mother has so ordered It,” said Allevpe. "Bv our Lady’ and wlthouten flisro snect,” quoth Terlake, "it Is in mv mind •hat her ladv-mother is more fitted to lead a eompany to a storming than to have the upbringing of this tender, and milk-white maid Hark, ye. ' lad Alleyne. to what T never told man or woman yet. T love the fair T,adv Maude and would give the last dron of mv heart’s blood to serve her ” He spoke with a gasping voice, and his face flushed crimson In the moonlight. Alievne said nothine-. but Ms heart seemed to turn to a lump of Ice In hts bosom. "My father has broad acres.” the other eontlnued. "from Fareham Creek to the slope of the Portsdown Mill. Sure um 1 that Sir Nigel would be blithe at such a match." "But how the lady?" asked Alleyne, With dry lips. "Ah, lad! there lies my trouble. It is a toss of the head and a droop of the eyes if 1 say one word of what is in my mind. I did but ask her yester-nlght for her green veil, that 1 might heal it as a token or lambrequin upon my helm; but she Hashed out at me that she kept it for a better man, and then all in a breath asked pardon tor that she had spoke so rudely. Vet she would not take back the words either, nor would she grant the veil. lias it seemed to thee, Alleyne, that she loves any one?" "Nay, 1 cannot say," said Alleyne, with a wild throb ot sudden hope iu his heart. "1 have thought so, and yet 1 can not name the man. Indeed, save my self, and Walter Ford, and you, who are half a clerk, and Father Christo pher of the Priory, and Bertrand the page, who is there whom she sees?" "I cannot tell," quoth Alleyne shortly; and the two squires rode on a gain, each Intent upon his own thoughts. Next day at morning lesson the teacher observed that his pupil was indeed looking pale and jaded, with listless eyes and a weary manner lie was heavy-hearted to note the change in her. "Your mistress, T fear. Is 111. Agatha,” he said to the tire-woman, when the Lady Maude had sought her chamber. The maid looker aslant at him with laughing eyes. "It is not an illness that kills," quoth she. “Pray God not!” he cried. "But tell me. Agatha, what is it that ails her?” "Me thinks that I could lay my hand upon another who is smitten with the same trouble,” said she, with the same sidelong look. "Canst not give a name to it, and thou so skilled In leechcraft?" “Nay, save that she seems aweary." “Well, bethink you that it is but three days ere you will he gone, and Castle Twynham be as dull us the priory. Is there not enough there to cloud a lady’s brow?" “In sootii. yes," he answered. "I had forgot that she is about to lose her father.” "Her father!" cried the tire-woman, with a little trill of laughter. “Oh, simple, simple!" And she was off down the passage like arrow from bow, whilo Alleyne stood gazing after her, be twixt hope and doubt, scarce daring to put faith in the meaning which seemed to underlie her words. CHAPTER X. St. Luke’s day had come and had gone, and It was iu the season of Martinmas, that the White Company was ready for its Journey. Loud shrieked the brazen bugles from keep and from gate-way, and merry was tile rattle of the war-drum, ns the men gathered in the outer bailey, with torches to light them, for the morn had not yet broken. Alleyne, from the window of the armory, looked down upon the strange scene—the circles of yellow flickering light, the lines of stern and bearded faces, the quick shimmer of arms, and the lean heads of the horses. In front stood th how men, ten deep, with a fringe of under offleers, wlio paced hither and thither, marshalling the ranks with curt pre cept or sharp rebuke. Behind were the little clump of steel-clad horse men. • their lances raised, with long pensils drooping down the oaken shafts So silent and still were they thut they might have been metal-sheethed stat ues, were It not for the occasional quick Impatient of their chargers, or tin; rattle of i liurnl'ron against neck plates as they tossed and strained. A spear's length In front of them sat the spare and long-limbed figure of Black .Slrnon, the Norwich fighting man, his fierce, deep lined face framed 111 steel arid the silk guidon, marked with the five scarlet roses, slanting over his broad right shoulder. The young squire was leaning for ward gazing at the stirring and martial scene, when he heard a short quick gasp at his shoulder, arid there was the I,ady Maude with her hand to her heart, leaning up against the wall, slender and fair, like a half-plucked lily. Her face was turned away from him, but he could see, by tlie sharp Intake of her breath, that she was weeping bitterly. ‘‘Alas! alas!” be cried, all unnerved at the sight, ‘‘why Is It that you are so sad, lady?" “It Is the sight of these brave men," she answered; “and to think how many of them go and how few are lik<- to find their way back. I have seen it before, when I was a little maid, In the year of the Prince’s great battle I remember then how they mustered in the bailey, even as they do now. and my lady-mother holding me In her arms at this very window that X might see the show." “Please God, you will see them all ha< k ere another year be out,” said he She shook her head, looking round at him with flushed cheeks and eyes which sparkled In the lamp-light. “Oh, hut I hate myself for being a woman! she cried, with a stamp of her little foot. “What can I do that is good > Here I must hide and talk and sew and spin, and spin and sew and talk. Ever the same dull round, with nothing at the end of It. And now you are going, too, who could carry my thoughts out of these gray walls, arid raise my rnlnd above tapestry and distaffs. What can I do? I am of no more use or value than that broken bow-stave.” "You are of such value to me” he cried In a whirl of hot. passionate words, “that ail else has become naught. You are mv heart, mv life mv one and only thought Oh. Maude T cannot live without you! I nannot I leave von without a word of love ah Is changed to me since T have known vou T am poor and lowly and all iinworthv: but If great iove may weigh down sueh defeets. then mihe may do It Give me but one word of hope to t-ike to the wars with me. but one. Ah vou shrink vou shudder! My wild words have frightened you . Twice she opened her lips, no sound came from them. At last she spoke In a hard and measured voice as one who dare not trust herself to speak too freely. “This Is over-sudden, she said. It Is not so long since the wor, {* nothing to you. You have changed once; perchance you may change again." "Cruel!" he cried. “Who hath changed me?" "And then your brother!" she con tinued with a little laugn, disregard ing his question. "Methmks this hath become a family custom amongst the iidricsons. Nay, 1 am sorry, I did not mean a 'jibe. But, indeed, Alleyne, tins hath come quickly upon me, and 1 scarce know whut to say. "Say some word ut nope, however distant —some kind word that 1 may cherish in my heart.” "Nay, Alleyne, il were a cruel kind ness, and you have been 100 good and true a friend lo me that 1 should use you despite!ully. There cannot be a closer link between us. it is madness to think of it. Were there no othei reasons, it is enough that my futliei and your brother would both cry out against it." "Aly brother, what has lie to do with it" And your father —" “Come, Alleyne, was il not you who would have me act fairly to all men, and eertes, lo my lather amongst them?" "You say truly," he cried, "you say truly. But you do not reject me, Maude? You give me some ray of hope? 1 do not ask pledge or promise. Say only that I am not hateful to you—that on some happier day I may hear kinder words from you." Her eyes softened upon him, and a heartfelt answer was on her lips, when a hoarse shout, witli tin- clatter of arms and stamping of steeds, rose up from the bailey below. At the sound her face set. lier eyes sparkled, and she stood with flushed cheek and head thrown back —a woman's body, but a soul of fire. "My father hath gone down,” sho cried. "Your place is by ills side. Nay, look not at me, Alleyne It Is no time for dallying. Win my father'll love, and nil mny follow. It is when the brave soldier hath done Ids devoir that he hopes for his reward. Fare well, and may God lie with you!” She holdout her white, slim hand to him, but ns he bent Ids lips over It sho whisked away and was gone, leaving In Ids outstretched hand tin' very green veil for which Peter Terlake had craved In vain. Again tlm hoarse cheering burst out from below, and ho heard the clang of the rising portcul lis. Pressing the veil to Ids lips, he thrust II Into the bosom of Ids tunic, ami rushed ns fast us feet could bear him to arm himself and join the muster. The raw morning had broken ore the hot spiced ale was served round and last farewell spoken. First came Black Simon with Ids banner, bestrid ing a lean and powerful dapple-gray charger, as hard and wiry ns himself. After him, riding three abreast, were nine men-at-arms, all picked soldiers, who had followed the French wars before. So, with Jingle of arms and clatter of hoofs, they rode across the Bridge of Avon, while the burghers shouted for the flag of the live roses and Its gallant guard. Close at the heels of the horses came two-score archers, burly and mostly bearded, their round targets on their backs and their long yellow bows, the most deadly weapon that the wit of man had yet devised, thrusting forth from behind their shoulders. From each man’s girdle hung sword or axe, according to his humor, and over his rltht hip there Jutted out the Jenlhern quiver, with its bristle of goose, pigeon, and peacock feathers. Ho we’ll toast altogether To the Gray Goose Feather, And the land where the Gray Goose - flew. Behind the bowmen strode two trumpeters blowing upon tiaklrs, and two drummers In parti-colored clothes. After them came twenty-seven sump ter-horses carrying tent poles, cloth, spare arms, spurs, wedges, cooking kettles, horseshoes, bags of nails, and the hundred other things which ex perience had shown to be needful In a harried hostile country. A white mule with red trappings, led by a varlet, carried Sir Nigel's own napery and table comforts. Then came two-score more archers, ten more rnen-ut-arms, and, finality a rear-guard of twenty bowmen, with big John towering in the front rank and the veteran Aylward marching by his side, his battered har ness and faded, sureoat In strange con trast with the snow-white jupons and shining brlgandlnes of his companions. A quick cross-fire of greetings ami questions and rough West Saxon Jests flew from rank to rank, or were bandied about betwixt the marching archers and the gazing crowd. The Company had marched to the turn of the road ere Sir Nigel Lotting rode out from the gate-way, mounted on Pomrners, his great black war war-horse, whose ponderous footfall on the wooden drawbridge echoed loudly from the gloomy arch which spanned It. Sir Nigel was still In Ills velvet dress of peace, with flal velvet cap of maintenance, and curling ostrich feather clasped In a golden brooch. He bore no arms save the long and | What Does This Mean? these puzzling things, roughly displayed in Fresh Flood upon the wall of a house where a great crime had /rn been committed, stared jyr\\ you in the face, could you mJ/1 j\ /S ex P* a,n their meaning? Ibl/JJI i VI i Such was the problem which Sherlock tf'/l} f j 8 Holmes had to solve in his first wJfj I *II ** The Study in Scarlet" WiJl { I IB A book which made CONAN I)OYL,K the fir»t lit ’jiJih VA /p of detective writers In the world. In Holmes’ next adventure, he was mmm i —-1... * confronted by the cabalistic image I^fTTC, in “The Sign of the Four” These two, the first and best of the Sherlock Holmes novels, 300 pages of read ing bound elegantly in a single big volume in illuminated cloth board (Harper & Bros.' regular $1.50 linen imperial edition), sent postpaid with this coupon for « 50 Cents Here is a chance to get two of the most intensely interesting of adventures in a most beautifully printed and bound edition for just one-third price. pppp WITH THK RflflK lltbC TV IJ f] mid UUUH. enameled paper, mutable for framing. be sure and use this Coupon, sending 50 cents in Stamps, Coin or Money Order. WAHHKK A BWOS., Krauklin Square, N. Y. City. Same I Street Town State heavy sword which hung at his sad dle-bow; but Terlake carried in front of him the high wivern-crested bassi net, Ford the heavy ash spear with swallow-tail pennon, while Alleyne was entrusted with the emblazoned shield. The Lady Loring rode her palfrey at her lord's bridle-arm, for she. would see him as far as the edge of ttie forest, and ever and anon she turned her hurdlined face up wistfully to him and run a questioning eye over his apparel and appointments. "I trust that there Is nothing forgot,” she said, beckoning to Alleyne to ride on her farther side. “I trust him to you. Edrlcson. Houen, shirts, cyclas, and under-Jupons are in the brown basket on the left side of the mule. Ills wine he takes hot when the nights are cold, malvolse or vernage, with as much spice as would cover the thumb-nail. Hee thut he hath a change If he comes back hot from the tilting. There is goose-grease In a box, if the old scars ache at the turn of the weather. The purse I have already given you, Edrlcson, continued the lady. “There arc In It twenty-three marks, one noble, three shillings and fourpence, which is a great treasure for one man to carry. And I pray you to bear In ntind, Edrlcson, thut he hath two pair of shoes, those of red leather for common use, and the others with golden toechalns, which he may wear should ho chance to drink wlae with the Prince or with Chandos.” "My sweet bird." said Sir Nigel, ”1 am right loath to part, but we are now at the fringe of the forest, and it is not right that I should take tho chatelaine too far from her trust.” "But, oh, my dear lord.” she cried, with a trembling lip, “let me bide with you for one furlong further—or one and n half, perhaps. You may spare me this out of the weary miles that you will journey alone." "Come then, my heart's comfort,” he answered. "But I must crave a gage from thee. It is my custom, darling, and hath been since I have first known thee, to proclaim by herald in such camps, townships, or fortalloes as I may chance to visit, that my lady-love being beyond compare the fairest ami sweetest In Christendom, I should deem It great honor and kindly eonde seension If any cavalier would run three courses against me with shar pened lances, should he chance to have a lady whose claim he was willing to advance. I pray you then, my fair dove, that you will vouchsafe to me one of those doe-skin gloves, that I may wear It iis the badge of her whose servant I shall ever be.” “Alack apd alas for the fairest and sweetest!" she cried. "Fair and sweet I would fain be for your dear sake, my lord, but old I am and ugly, and tho knights would laugh should you lay lance in rest In such a cause.” "Edrlcson,” quoth Sir Nigel, “you have young eyes, and mine are some what bedimmed. Should you chance to sco a knight laugh, oi- smile, or even look,, arch Ills brows, or purse his mouth, or In any way show sur prise that I should uphold the Lady Mary, you will take particular noto of hls name, his coat-armor, ami his lodging. I’our love, my llfe’B desire!” The Lady Mary Loring slipped her hand from her yellow leal her gauntlet, and he, lifting it with dainty rever ence, bound It to the front of hls velvet cup. "It Is with mine other guardian angels,” quoth he, pointing at the .mint’s medals which hung beside It. "And now, my dearest, you have come far enough. May the Virgin guard and prosper thee' One klßs!” he bent down from hls saddle, and then, striking spurs Into Ills horse's sides, he galloped at top speed after hls men, with hls three squires at hls heels. Half a mile farther, where the road topped a hill, they looked buck, and the Lady Mary, on her white palfrey, was still where they had left her. A moment later they vyero on the downward slope, and she Imd vanished from their view. (To be Continued Next Week.) Synopsis of Preceding Chapters. The *eene* of Mm story r»re laid In the 14th century* llordle John, of ilo* C'irftercian MitUMter}, flvun from tho AM*"' of Mean lieu. guilty of certain serious chuives brought aguin-t liirn by a number of tlm monk*. Another “f tin* lay brethren, Alleypii fc«l rloHon,tak<» hi* departure In accordance with hm I father'* vi ill, denignating tliut lie should, when bo became Vi, go forth for one year to chooao for bun gel f fi In future calling. In nadiicMf lie irofM to rlflt bla brother, tho Hooiiiaii of Min*t<ud. wbone reputation Id tniHHvorv. At night Alleyne** <k* a road-uide Inn, where ho meet* Honlle Jolm, find Hamkln Avlward. nn Kngll*h aiclor Jimt buck from the French war*. A lb yno Hud* I In brother In Mlntdend wood* quarrel ing wlf bit beautiful dam-el. Ho icmcupm h» r, thereby g lining!ho Hoernau’s enmity. Tim mulden, lournii.tr ! thut ho Intend- to j< In hi < on m pun lon a at Cnrl*t churoh. w hero dwell* Sir Nigel, leave* him laughingly without tolling him her name. 110 reloin* hi* cooi imiii'diHHini they journey to Hlr Nigel'* home. On Bee » lug tho renowned knight, f lordlc John I* much vexed nt ill apparent bodily weaknc**but <|illckly changv* hi* mind when they have mi adventure with a huge bear, lien Allevehe moot* bln companion of the Woods, whom ho lotti UN 1* tlm daughter of Hir Nigel.
