ther also I sent my
harness, for that I would sleep there. This was all done in the late
evening, secretly, and, after supper, I broke the matter to my master and
Elliot. Her face changed to a dead white, and she sat silent, while my
master took the word, saying, in our country speech, that "he who will to
Cupar, maun to Cupar," and therewith he turned, and walked out and about
in the garden.

We were alone, and now was the hardest of my work to do, to comfort
Elliot, when, in faith, I sorely needed comfort myself. But honour at
once and necessity called me to ride, being now fit to bear harness, and
foreseeing no other chance to gain booty, or even, perchance, my spurs.
Nor could I endure to be a malingerer. She sat there, very white, her
lip quivering, but her eyes brave and steadfast.

I kneeled beside her, and in my hands I took her little hand, that was
cold as ice.

"It is for the Maid, and for you, Elliot," I whispered; and she only bent
her head on my shoulder, but her cold hand gripped mine firmly.

"She did say that you should come back unharmed of sword," whispered
Elliot, looking for what comfort she might. "But, O my dear! you may be
taken, and when shall I see you again? Oh! this life is the hardest
thing for women, who must sit and tremble and pray at home. Sure no
danger of war is so terrible! Ah, must you really go?"

Then she clung so closely about me, that it seemed as if I could never
escape out of her arms, and I felt as if my heart must break in twain.

"How could I look men in the face, and how could I ever see the Maid
again, if I go not?" I said; and, loosening her grasp, she laid her hands
on my shoulders, and so gazed on me steadfastly, as if my picture could
be fixed on the tablets of her brain.

"On your chin is coming a little down, at last," she said, smiling
faintly, and then gave a sob, and her lips met mine, and our very souls
met; but, even then, we heard my master's steps hobbling to the door, and
she gave a cry, and fled to her chamber. And this was our
leave-taking--brief, but I would not have had it long.

"It is ill work parting, Heaven help us," said my master. "Faith, I
remember, as if it were to-day, how I set forth for Verneuil; a long time
I was gone, and came back a maimed man. But it is fortune of war! The
saints have you in their keeping, my son, and chiefly St. Andrew. Come
back soon, and whole, and rich, for, meseems, if I lose one of you, I am
to l