ding to Humphrey, and had been trying to divert his mind from the sore
disappointment which the decision that he was to stay in Arnhem had
occasioned him. But Humphrey, like most masculine invalids, was very hard
to persuade, or to manage, and Mary, feeling that his condition was really
the result of his efforts to save her boy and bring him to her, was full of
pity for him, and self-reproach that she had caused him so much pain and
vexation.

'How fares it with my good esquire, Mistress Gifford?' Sir Philip asked, as
he greeted Mary.

'Indeed, sir, but ill; and I fear that to prevent his joining your company
may hurt him more than suffering him to have his way. He is also greatly
distressed that he could not prosecute inquiries at Axel for my child. In
good sooth, Sir Philip, I have brought upon my true friend nought but ill.
I am ofttimes tempted to wish he had never seen me.'

'Nay, Mistress Gifford, do not indulge that wish. I hold to the faith that
the love of one who is pure and good can but be a boon, whether or not
possession of that one be denied or granted.'

'But, sir, you know my story--you know that between me and Master Ratcliffe
is a dividing wall which neither can pass.'

'Yes, I know it,' Sir Philip said; 'but, Mistress Gifford, take courage.
The wall may be broken down and his allegiance be rewarded at last.'

'Yet, how dare I wish or pray that so it should be, sir? No; God's hand is
heavy upon me--bereft of my boy, and tossed hither and thither as a ship on
a stormy sea. All that is left for me is to bow my head and strive to say,
"God's will be done."'

It was seldom that Mary Gifford gave utterance to her inmost thoughts;
seldom that she confessed even to herself how deeply rooted in her heart
was her love for Humphrey Ratcliffe. She never forgot, to her latest day,
the look of perfect sympathy--yes, of understanding, which Sir Philip
Sidney bent on her as he took her hand in his, and, bending over it,
kissed it reverently.

'May God have you in His holy keeping, Mistress Gifford, and give you
strength for every need.'

'He understands me,' Mary said, as she stood where he left her, his quick
steps sounding on the tiled floor of the long corridor which opened from
the square lobby. 'He understands, he knows; for has he not tasted of a
like cup bitter as mine?'

Mary Gifford was drawing her hood more closely over her face, preparing to
return to Master Gifford's house, when she saw a man o