he beheld him.

"He is a dead man," he said, "and the wonder is that this has not come
before. He is sodden with drink and rotten with ill-living, besides
being past all the strength of youth. He dies of the life he has lived."

'Twas little to be expected that his boon companions could desert their
homes and pleasures and tend his horrors longer than a night. Such a
sight as he presented did not inspire them to cheerful spirits.

"Lord," said Sir Chris Crowell, "to see him clutch his flesh and shriek
and mouth, is enough to make a man live sober for his remaining days,"
and he shook his big shoulders with a shudder.

"Ugh!" he said, "God grant I may make a better end. He writhes as in
hell-fire."

"There is but one on earth who will do aught for him," said Eldershawe.
"'Tis handsome Clo, who is a duchess; but she will come and tend him, I
could swear. Even when she was a lawless devil of a child she had a way
of standing by her friends and fearing naught."

So after taking counsel together they sent for her, and in as many hours
as it took to drive from London, her coach stood before the door. By
this time all the household was panic-stricken and in hopeless disorder,
the women-servants scattered and shuddering in far corners of the house;
such men as could get out of the way having found work to do afield or in
the kennels, for none had nerve to stay where they could hear the
madman's shrieks and howls.

Her Grace, entering the house, went with her woman straight to her
chamber, and shortly emerged therefrom, stripped of her rich apparel, and
clad in a gown of strong blue linen, her hair wound close, her white
hands bare of any ornament, save the band of gold which was her wedding-
ring. A serving-woman might have been clad so; but the plainness of her
garb but made her height, and strength, so reveal themselves, that the
mere sight of her woke somewhat that was like to awe in the eyes of the
servants who beheld her as she passed.

She needed not to be led, but straightway followed the awful sounds,
until she reached the chamber behind whose door they were shut. Upon the
huge disordered bed, Sir Jeoffry writhed, and tried to tear himself, his
great sinewy and hairy body almost stark. Two of the stable men were
striving to hold him.

The duchess went to his bedside and stood there, laying her strong white
hand upon his shuddering shoulder.

"Father," she said, in a voice so clear, and with such a r