h his
hand. "But Francis Sark--" began Wynch, in a shaking voice.

"I know naught of Francis Sark," Ferne replied. "As I have said so I
did. I ask no other court than this, no further mercy than my present
death.... John Nevil, for the sake of all that's dead and gone forever,
I pray you to keep me here no longer!"

He staggered as he spoke and put his hand to his head. "Mortimer,
Mortimer. Mortimer!" cried the Admiral. "Oh, my God, let this
dream pass!"

"Why, the matter needs not God," said Ferne, and laughed. "I am a
traitor, am I not? Then do to me what was done to Thomas Doughty. Only
hasten, for dead men wait to clutch me, and your looks do sear my
very brain."

Again he reeled. With a cry Robin-a-dale sprang towards him. Arden, too,
was there in time to support the sinking figure and guide it to the seat
he had pushed forward. Some one held wine to the lips.... Slow moments
passed, then Sir Mortimer's eyes unclosed. The boy hung over him, and he
smiled upon him, smiled with eye and lip. "Ay, ay, ay, Robin," he said,
"we'll to the court! And sweep away these rhymes, for the queen of all
my songs dwells there, and I shall look into her eyes--and that's better
than singing, lad! Ay, I'll wear the violet, and we'll ride beneath the
blossoms of the spring.... But there's a will-o'-the-wisp on the marsh
out yonder, and here they call it a lost soul--the soul of the
traitor Aguirre!"

"Master, master!" cried the boy.

Ferne laughed, touching the young cheek with long, supple fingers.
"Fame is a bubble, lad--let me tell thee that! But then it is
rainbow-hued and mirrors the sky,--so we'll ride for the bubble, lad!
and we'll stoop from the saddle and gather up Love! And when the bubble
has vanished and Love is dead there's Honor left!" He leaned forward,
seeing and hearing where was neither sound nor sight. There was gayety
in his face. To the men who stared upon him it was a fearful thing that
he who had lost his battle should wear once more the look which they had
seen a thousand times. He raised his hand.

"Do you not hear the drums beat and the trumpets blow--far away, far
away? Let me whisper--there's one that comes home in triumph.... Ay,
your Grace, 'twas I that took Santo Domingo in Hispaniola, and on the
mainland the very rich cities of Puerto Cabello, Santa Marta, La Guayra,
Cartagena, Nombre de Dios and San Juan de Ulloa. Manoa I reserve,--'tis
a secret city, and all who know a secret must keep it, els