anticipated
that succour would arrive long before the stores in the castle had
been exhausted.

But time went on, and, though food was not absolutely lacking, the
spring of water which had hitherto supplied the garrison began to
fail. Whether through summer heats, or whether the wily enemy had
succeeded in cutting off the source, where once there had been a
clear crystal pool in the rock, cold as the snow from which it came,
there only dribbled a few scanty drops, caught with difficulty, and
only imbibed from utter necessity, so great was the suspicion of
their being poisoned by the enemy.

The wine was entirely gone, and the salted provision, which alone
remained, made the misery of thirst almost unbearable.

On the cushions, richly embroidered in dainty Eastern colouring, lay
Mabel de Hundberg, with dry lips half opened and panting, too weary
to move, yet listening all intent.

Another moment, and in chamois leather coat, his helmet in hand,
entered her brother from the turret stair, and threw himself down
hopelessly, answering her gesture.

"No, no, of course no. The dust was only from another swarm of
those hateful Saracens. I knew it would be so. Pah! it has made my
tongue more like old boot leather than ever. Have no more drops
been squeezed from the well? It's time the cup was filled!"

"It was Roger's turn. Sigbert said he should have the next," said
Mabel.

Walter uttered an imprecation upon Roger, and a still stronger one
on Sigbert's meddling. But instantly the cry was, "Where is
Sigbert?"

Walter even took the trouble to shout up and down the stair for
Sigbert, and to demand hotly of the weary, dejected men-at-arms
where Sigbert was; but no one could tell.

"Gone over to the enemy, the old traitor," said Walter, again
dropping on the divan.

"Never! Sigbert is no traitor," returned his sister.

"He is an English churl, and all churls are traitors," responded
Walter.

The old nurse, who was fitfully fanning Mabel with a dried palm-
leaf, made a growl of utter dissent, and Mabel exclaimed, "None was
ever so faithful as good old Sigbert."

It was a promising quarrel, but their lips were too dry to keep it
up for more than a snarl or two. Walter cast himself down, and bade
old Tata fan him; why should Mabel have it all to herself?

Then sounds of wrangling were heard below, and Walter roused himself
to go down and interfere. The men were disputing over some
miserable dregs of wine