door

and the click of her sobs to be heard dying swiftly away down the

corridor.

alleyne stared 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, "i am a most wicked woman. but it is bad

enough that one should misuse you. ma foi! i will see that there

is not a second one."

"nay, nay, no one has misused me," he answered. "but the fault

lies in 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 to speak the truth," she cried.

"now i have spoken it, and yet i cannot please you. lack-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. as the weeks passed, however, they became

fewer and less violent, as alleyne's firm and constant nature

gained sway and influence over the lady maude. and yet, sooth to

say, there were times when he 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 drawing her up from the

world, he was day by day being himself dragged down towards it.

in vain he strove and reasoned with himself as to the madness of

letting his mind rest upon sir nigel's daughter. what was he--a

younger son, a penniless clerk, a squire unable to pay for his

own harness--that he should dare to raise his eyes to the

fairest maid in hampshire? so spake reason; but, in spite of all,

her voice was ever in his ears and her image in his heart.

stronger than reason, stronger 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.

and yet it was a surprise and a shock to himself to find how

deeply she had entered into his life; how completely those vague

ambitions and yearnings which had filled his spiritual nature

centred themselves now upon this thing of earth. he had scarce

dared to face the change which had come upon him, when a few

sudden chance words showed it all up hard and clear, like a

lightning flash in the darkness.

he had ridden over to poole, one november day, with his fellow-

squire, peter terlake, in quest of certain yew-staves from wat

swathling, the dorsetshire armorer. the day for their departure

had almost come, and the two youths spurred it over the lonely

downs at the top of their speed on their homeward course, for

evening had fallen and there was much to be done. peter was a

hard, wiry, brown faced, country-bred lad who looked on the

coming war as the schoolboy looks on his holidays this day,

however, he had been sombre and mute, with scarce a word a mile

to bestow upon his comrade.

"tell me alleyne edricson," he broke out, suddenly, as they

clattered along the winding track which leads over the

bournemouth hills, "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," the other answered shortly.

"and would rather sit distrait by her oriel than ride gayly to

the chase as of old. methinks, alleyne, it is this learning

which you have taught her that has taken all the life and sap

from her. it is more than she can master, like a heavy spear to a

light rider."

"her lady-mother has so ordered it," said alleyne.

"by our lady! and withouten disrespect," quoth terlake, "it is in

my mind that her lady-mother is more fitted to lead a company to

a storming than to have the upbringing of this tender and milk-

white maid. hark ye, lad alleyne, to what i never told man or

woman yet. i love the fair lady maude, and would give the last

drop of my heart's blood to serve her. he spoke with a gasping

voice, and his face flushed crimson in the moonlight.

alleyne said nothing, but his heart seemed to turn to a lump of

ice in his bosom.

"my father has broad acres," the other continued, "from fareham

creek to the slope of the portsdown hill. there is filling of

granges, hewing of wood, malting of grain, and herding of sheep

as much as heart could wish, and i the only son. sure am i that

sir nigel would be blithe at such a match."

"but how of 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 i say one word of what is in my mind.

'twere as easy to woo the snow-dame that we shaped last winter in

our castle yard. i did but ask her yesternight for her green

veil, that i might bear it as a token or lambrequin upon my helm;

but she flashed out at me that she kept it for a better man, and

then all in a breath asked pardon for that she had spoke so

rudely. yet she would not t