intent on something else, and exclaimed—

“Oh, sir, Sir King, let me speak one word! The guerdon should not be only my brother’s. The device that served us was—our squire’s.”

The Baron of Courtwood uttered a fierce exclamation. Walter muttered, “Mabel, do not be such a meddling fool”; but the King asked, “And who may this same squire be?”

“An old English churl,” said Walter impatiently. “My father took him as his squire for want of a better.”

“And he has been like a father to us,” added Mabel

“Silence, sister! It is not for you to speak!” petulantly cried Walter. “Not that the Baron of Courtwood need be jealous,” added he, laughing somewhat rudely. “Where is the fellow? Stand forth, Sigbert.”

Travel and heat-soiled, sunburnt, gray, and ragged, armour rusted, leathern garment stained, the rugged figure came forward, footsore and lame, for he had given up his horse to an exhausted man-at-arms. A laugh went round at the bare idea of the young lady’s preferring such a form to the splendid young knight, her destined bridegroom.

“Is this the esquire who hath done such good service, according to the young lady?” asked the King.

“Ay, sir,” returned Walter; “he is true and faithful enough, though nothing to be proud of in looks; and he served us well in my sally and attack.”

“It was his—” Mabel tried to say, but Sigbert hushed her.

“Let be, let be, my sweet lady; it was but my bounden duty.”

“What’s that? Speak out what passes there,” demanded young Courtwood, half-jealously still.

“A mere English villein, little better than a valet of the camp!” were the exclamations around. “A noble damsel take note of him! Fie for shame!”

“He has been true and brave,” said the King. “Dost ask a guerdon for him, young sir?” he added to Walter.

“What wouldst have, old Sigbert?” asked Walter, in a patronising voice.

“I ask nothing, sir,” returned the old squire. “To have seen my lord’s children in safety is all I wish. I have but done my duty.”

King Fulk, who saw through the whole more clearly 

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