she answered. "You
have won her respect and--and--" But she could not say it and so she
trailed off lamely--"and undying gratitude."

But Norman of Torn knew the word that she would have spoken had he dared
to let her. He did not, for there was always the vision of Bertrade de
Montfort before him; and now another vision arose that would effectually
have sealed his lips had not the other--he saw the Outlaw of Torn
dangling by his neck from a wooden gibbet.

Before, he had only feared that Joan de Tany loved him, now he knew it,
and while he marvelled that so wondrous a creature could feel love for
him, again he blamed himself, and felt sorrow for them both; for he did
not return her love nor could he imagine a love strong enough to survive
the knowledge that it was possessed by the Devil of Torn.

Presently they reached the bottom of the stairway, and Joan de Tany
led him, gropingly, across what seemed, from their echoing footsteps, a
large chamber. The air was chill and dank, smelling of mold, and no
ray of light penetrated this subterranean vault, and no sound broke the
stillness.

"This be the castle's crypt," whispered Joan; "and they do say that
strange happenings occur here in the still watches of the night, and
that when the castle sleeps, the castle's dead rise from their coffins
and shake their dry bones.

"Sh! What was that?" as a rustling noise broke upon their ears close
upon their right; and then there came a distinct moan, and Joan de Tany
fled to the refuge of Norman of Torn's arms.

"There is nothing to fear, Joan," reassured Norman of Torn. "Dead men
wield not swords, nor do they move, or moan. The wind, I think, and rats
are our only companions here."

"I am afraid," she whispered. "If you can make a light, I am sure
you will find an old lamp here in the crypt, and then will it be less
fearsome. As a child I visited this castle often, and in search of
adventure, we passed through these corridors an hundred times, but
always by day and with lights."

Norman of Torn did as she bid, and finding the lamp, lighted it. The
chamber was quite empty save for the coffins in their niches, and some
effigies in marble set at intervals about the walls.

"Not such a fearsome place after all," he said, laughing lightly.

"No place would seem fearsome now," she answered simply, "were there a
light to show me that the brave face of Roger de Conde were by my side."

"Hush, child," replied the outlaw. "You kn