my mind."

"It is the same thing there," De Wilton laughed.

At that moment the Master of Horse suddenly left the Duke and turned
toward the stables.

"Busk yourselves for the road, fair sirs," he called, as he passed.
"We march after matins to-morrow."

The news spread like the wind through the castle, but it occasioned
neither confusion nor even bustle. The personal following of Richard
of Gloucester were selected from veteran soldiers who were ever ready.
They had but to don harness and mount horse when the route was sounded;
and they could have ridden across the drawbridge at sundown, just as
readily as the next morning.

In the antechamber that evening there was much discussion by the
younger Knights as to the Duke's probable course; would he head the
Nobility; would he aim for the Protectorship; would he remain quiescent
and let the Woodvilles control? Those older in his service, however,
were content to bide patiently the future, for long since had they
learned the folly of trying to forecast the purposes of their silent
leader.

And Sir Ralph de Wilton and Sir Henry de Vivonne were hot in the
argument when Sir James Dacre arose and clapped De Lacy on the shoulder.

"Come along," he said. "These two gentlemen are vastly entertaining,
doubtless, but I am for the presence chamber to make my adieux."

The Lady Mary Percy was reading aloud Chaucer's "Knight's Tale" when
they were announced, but she quickly laid aside the heavy tome, and the
Duchess paused in her embroidery and greeted them with a smile.

"I have seen nothing of you since you saved the Countess," she said,
giving each a hand to kiss, "and I owe you both a heavy payment."

"And which, then, does Your Grace rate the higher: the Countess or her
hat?" Dacre asked.

"I do not quite understand," said she.

"Sir Aymer de Lacy saved the Countess, and I saved the hat," he
explained.

"And what did Lord Darby save?" the Lady Mary asked pertly.

Dacre smiled placidly.

"Nothing--not even his temper; the Countess saved that for him," he
answered; and every one laughed--even the Duchess; though she shook her
head at him, the while, in mock reproof.

"That forfeits your share of the reward," she said; then turned to De
Lacy. "Some time, Sir Aymer, I must have a gallop beside the wonderful
Selim."

De Lacy bowed low. "Why not on him?" he asked.

"Well, perhaps--when we all are together again."

"In London--or at Windsor?"

A faint sh