ady should set her heart upon the ruby the cost of
it can stand over a while, since I know that it is hard for a husband to
disappoint a wife of what she desires."

"Man, she is my distant cousin, not my wife. I would she were, but how
can two high-placed paupers wed?"

"Perhaps it is for this reason that my lord wishes to borrow money."

Again he shrugged his shoulders, and as we entered the shop I threw back
the hood from off my head upon which I wore a merchant's cap of velvet.
The lady Blanche caught sight of me and started.

"Surely, surely," she began, "you are he who shot the three arrows at
the cave's mouth at Hastings."

"Yes, my lady, and did your hawk escape the dogs upon the London road?"

"Nay, it was crippled and died, which was the first of many troubles,
for I think my luck rode away with you that day, Master Hubert of
Hastings," she added with a sigh.

"There are other hawks and luck returns," I replied, bowing. "Perhaps
this trinket will bring it back to you, my lady," and taking the
snake-surrounded ruby heart, I proffered it to her with another bow.

"Oh!" she said, her blue eyes shining with pleasure, "oh! it is
beautiful, but whence is the price to come for so costly a thing?"

"I think the matter is one that can wait."

At that moment the lord Deleroy broke in, saying,

"So you are the man who slew the French knight with an ancient sword,
and afterwards shot three other Frenchmen with three shafts, sending
one of them through shield and mail and body, a tale that was spoken of
afterwards, even in London. God's truth! you should be serving the King
in the wars, not yourself behind the counter."

"There are many ways of serving, my lord," I answered, "by pen and
merchandise as well as by steel and shafts. Now with me it is the turn
of the former, though perhaps the ancient sword and the great black bow
wait till their time comes again."

He stared at me and muttered, half to himself:

"A strange merchant and a grim, as those dead Frenchmen may have
thought. I tell you, Sir Trader, that your talk and the eyes of that
tall Moor of yours turn my back cold; it is as though someone walked
over my grave. Come, Blanche, let us begone ere our horses be chilled as
I am. Master Grimmer, or Hastings, you shall hear from me, unless I can
do my business otherwise, and for the trinket send me a note at your
leisure."

Then they went, but as the lady Blanche left the shop she caught her
robe and