im! Ah, he feels about. Yes, he has
it. Now--now the top of the battlement. I see no more. They are letting
down a rope. Your Duke disna climb like my Geordie, Elleen!'

'Oh, for mercy's sake, to your prayers, dinna wrangle about your joes,
bairns,' cried Madame de Ste. Petronelle. 'The castle's no won yet!'

'But is as good as won,' said Eleanor. 'There are barely twelve fighting
men in it, and sorry loons are the maist. How many are up yet, Jeanie?'

'There's a fifth since the Duke yet to come up,' answered Jean, 'eight
altogether, counting the gallant Ringan. There!'

''Tis the warder's horn. They have been seen!' and the poor women
clasped their hands in fervent prayer, with ears intent; but Jean
suddenly darted towards her clothes, and they hastily attired
themselves, then cautiously peeped out at their door, since neither
sight nor sound came to them from either window. The guard who had
hindered their passage was no longer there, and Jean led the way down
the spiral stairs. At the slit looking into the court they heard
cries and the clash of arms, but it was too high above their heads for
anything to be seen, and they hastened on.

There also in the narrow court was a fight going on--but nearly
ended. Geordie Douglas knelt over the prostrate form of Rudiger von
Balchenburg, calling on him to yield, but meeting no answer. One or two
other men lay overthrown, three or four more were pressed up against
a wall, howling for mercy. Sigismund was shouting to them in
German--Ringan and the other assailants standing guard over them; but
evidently hardly withheld from slaughtering them. The maidens stood
for a moment, then Jean's scream of welcome died on her lips, for as
he looked up from his prostrate foe, and though he had not yet either
spoken or risen, Sigismund had stepped to his side, and laid his sword
on his shoulder.

'Victor!' said he, 'in the name of God and St. Mary, I make thee
Chevalier. Rise, Sire George of Douglas!'

'True knight!' cried Jean, leaping to his side. 'Oh, Geordie, Geordie,
thou hast saved us! Thou noblest knight!'

'Ah! Lady, it canna be helpit,' said the new knight. ''Tis no treason
to your brother to be dubbed after a fair fight, though 'tis by a Dutch
prince.'

'Thy King's sister shall mend that, and bind your spurs,' said Jean. 'Is
the reiver dead, Geordie?'

'Even so,' was the reply. 'My sword has spared his craig from the
halter.'

Such were the times, and such Jean's bree