Evander's fallen sword, interpolated a word of
explanation.

"It is Sir Rufus, my lady--Sir Rufus and his friends."

The interruption had been so sudden, the things that had chanced had
passed so swiftly, that Brilliana still stood as she had stood when
she gave the command to secure Evander. But now all her being seemed
alive with a new life.

"I hear them; I hear them!" she cried, exultantly. And, indeed, the
sounds came very clearly now of fierce young voices shouting for the
King.

"The King! The King!" Brilliana cried, in an ecstasy, and as the
loyal syllables died on her lips there came a trampling of near feet,
and then through the yawning doorway rushed a covey of young
gentlemen waving their drawn swords and yelling their cry, "The King!
The King!" As they flooded into the room, bright foam on the wave of
victorious loyalty, Brilliana knew them all. Sir Rufus Quaryll, her
neighbor and hot lover; the Lord Fawley, who had vainly wooed her for
wife; Sir John Radlett, who had the sense to love her and the sense
to hold his tongue; Captain Bardon, the bold and bluff; and young
Lord Richard Ingrow, with the delicate, girlish face that masked the
amazing rake. She seemed to see them as in some golden dream, seemed
to hear a-down the vistas of dreams the echoes of their gallant cries
of "God save the King!" Then as the new-comers knelt before her she
knew that all was true.

"God bless you, gentlemen!" she cried, from a full heart. "You are
very well come."

Rufus Quaryll, neighbor and wooer, was the first to speak, looking up
at her with rapture in his eyes of reddish brown.

"Imperial lady, the siege of Harby is raised."

Brilliana flung out her hands to him, and as he caught and kissed
them she raised him to his feet.

"Your news is music," she said, and her voice was as blithe as a
song.

"We are heralds of victory," Rufus said, as he stood and looked into
her eyes.

My Lord Fawley rose from his knees with a whoop.

"We have pelted the rebels from Edgehill," he shouted. Sir John
Radlett caught him up. "We banged them finely," he trumpeted. Young
Ingrow, with a flush on his fine cheeks, sang out a shrill "Hurrah
for Prince Rupert!" and bluff Bardon rubbed his hands as he chuckled,
"He brushed them into dust."

All the Cavaliers spoke rapidly and eagerly, flinging their phrases
each on top of the other. Rufus summed up all in a single splendid
sentence.

"The road lies plain to London."

"Heav