as he was, while Hugh remained only a simple squire,
yet now as ever, Hugh was the greater hero. For he knew that it would
have cost him a very bitter struggle to accept an unhonoured grave such
as Hugh anticipated, only because he thought it was God's will.

They parted the next morning. Edward's last words to his sister were
"Adieu, Custance, I will send thee a fleur-de-lis banner as trophy from
the fight. The oriflamme [Note 1], if the saints will have it so!"

But Hugh's were--"Farewell, dear friend Bertram. Remember, both thou
and I may do God's will!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1. The oriflamme was _the_ banner of France, kept in the Cathedral
of Saint Denis, and held almost sacred.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE GARDEN OF GOD.

I'm kneeling at the threshold, aweary, faint, and sore;
I'm waiting for the dawning, for the opening of the door;
I'm waiting till the Master shall bid me rise and come
To the glory of His presence, the gladness of His home.

A weary path I've travelled, mid darkness, storm, and strife,
Bearing many a burden, contending for my life;
But now the morn is breaking,--my toil will soon be o'er;
I'm kneeling at the threshold, my hand is at the door.

O Lord, I wait Thy pleasure! Thy time and way are best:
But I'm wasted, worn, and weary:--my Father, bid me rest!

_Dr Alexander_.

The full glory of summer had come at last. Over Southampton Water broke
a cloudless August day. The musical cries of the sailors who were at
work on the Saint Mary, the James, and the Catherine, in the offing--
preparing for the King's voyage to France--came pleasantly from the
distance. From the country farms, girls with baskets poised on their
heads, filled with market produce, came into the crowded sea-port town,
where the whole Court awaited a fair wind. There was no wind from any
quarter that day. Earth and sea and sky presented a dead calm: and the
only place which was not calm was the heart of fallen man. For a few
steps from the busy gates and the crowded market is Southampton Green,
and there, draped in mourning, stands the scaffold, and beside it the
state headsman.

All the Court are gathered here. It is a break in the monotony of
existence--the tiresome dead level of waiting for the wind to change.

The first victim is brought out. Trembling and timidly he comes--Henry
Le Scrope of Upsal, the luckless husban