m one she turned. "Do you not think,
Sir Aymer, it is about time for you to be presented?" she asked--then
ran quickly up the stairs and through the doorway.

V

THE CAPTURED FAVOR

St. George's day was dropping into night. Since early morning the
castle had been busy in the various ceremonies with which mediaeval
England observed the feast of her patron Saint; the garrison had been
paraded and inspected; the archers had shot for a gold bugle, and the
men-at-arms had striven for a great two-handed sword; there had been
races on foot and on horseback, and feats of strength and wrestling
bouts; and the Duke himself had presided at the sports and distributed
the prizes.

It was almost sundown when the last contest was over and the great
crowd of spectators that had congregated within the outer bailey began
to disperse. Richard had dismissed his attendants, with the exception
of Ratcliffe, and leaning on the latter's arm he sauntered slowly
across the stone-paved courtyard toward the keep.

"Methinks," said De Wilton, as he and De Lacy followed at some
distance, "that the order we have so long expected must come to-morrow.
And I, for one, shall be well content; it is many a long day since I
saw London."

"Why so certain of to-morrow?" De Lacy asked.

"Because if His Grace intend to be present at the coronation, he may
dally here no longer. . . Say you not so, Dacre?" as the latter joined
them.

"Verily, yes," said Dacre, "and I have already directed my squire to
prepare for the journey. Marry! it will be a joyous time in London."

"It is long since there was a peaceful crowning in fair England,"
observed De Lacy, "and I shall be glad indeed to see the pomp."

"It may not equal the splendors you have seen in France," remarked
Dacre, "but there will be a goodly show nevertheless; something rather
brighter than Yorkshire hills or Scottish heather."

"I have no quarrel with the heather," replied De Wilton, "but the hills
are . . . well, not--so soft as the cheeks and eyes of the dames of the
Court."

"In sooth," said De Lacy, "I am with you in that. To me a pretty face
was ever more attractive than a granite crag."

"Both are handy in their places," said Dacre with a shrug. "Yet,
Pasque Dieu! of the two it were not hard to choose the trustier."

"Go to!" exclaimed De Wilton; "it was not a gallant speech. You will
have to mend your mind in London."

"Nay, Sir Ralph, my words, perhaps, but scarce