th from falsehood, the noble
from the base, 'spite all their outward seeming. So do I judge you no
rogue--a strong man but very--aye, very young that, belike, hath
suffered unjustly, and being so young art fierce and impatient of all
things, and apt to rail bitterly 'gainst the world. Is't not so?"

"Aye," says I, marvelling, "truly 'tis like witchcraft--mayhap you will
speak me my name." At this she laughed (most wonderful to hear and
vastly so to such coarse rogue as I, whose ears had long been strangers
to aught but sounds of evil and foul obscenity):

"Nay," says she, "my knowledge of you goeth no further--but--" (and
here she paused to fetch a shuddering breath) "but for him you
killed--that two-legged beast! You did but what I would have done
for--O man, had you not come I--I should have killed him, maid though I
am! See, here is the dagger I snatched from his girdle as he strove
with me. O, take it--take it!" And, with a passionate gesture, she
thrust the weapon into my grasp.

"O madam--my lady!" cried her companion, "Look, yonder be
lights--lanthorns aflare on the road. 'Tis Gregory as I do think, with
folk come to seek for us. Shall we go meet them?"

"Nay wait, child--first let us be sure!" So side by side we stood all
three amid the dripping trees, watching the tossing lights that grew
ever nearer until we might hear the voices of those that bare them,
raised, ever and anon, in confused shouting.

"Aye, 'tis Gregory!" sighed my lady after some while. "He hath raised
the village and we are safe--"

"Hark!" cried I, starting forward. "What name do they cry upon?"

"Mine, sir!"

"Oho, my lady!" roared the hoarse chorus. "Oho, my Lady Joan--my Lady
Brandon--Brandon--Brandon!"

"Brandon!" cried I, choking upon the word.

"Indeed, sir--I am the Lady Joan Brandon of Shene Manor, and so long as
life be mine needs must I bear within my grateful heart the memory of--"

But, waiting for no more, I turned and sprang away into the denser
gloom of the wood. And ever as I went, crashing and stumbling through
the underbrush, above the noise of my headlong flight rang the hated
name of the enemy I had journeyed so far to kill--"Brandon! Brandon!
Brandon!"

CHAPTER II

HOW I HEARD A SONG IN THE WOOD AT MIDNIGHT

Headlong went I, staying for nought and heedless of all direction, but
presently, being weary and short of breath, I halted and leaning
against a tree stood thus very full of bitte