d Angele realised that Leicester had in this beautiful
and delicate maid-of-honour as bitter an enemy as ever brought down
the mighty from their seats; that a pride had been sometime wounded,
suffered an unwarrantable affront, which only innocence could feel so
acutely. Her heart went out to the Duke's Daughter as it had never
gone out to any of her sex since her mother's death, and she showed her
admiration in her glance. The other saw it and smiled, slipping a hand
in hers for a moment; and then a look, half-debating, half-triumphant,
came into her face as her eyes followed Leicester down the green
stretches of the tilting-yard.

The trumpet sounded, the people broke out in shouts of delight, the
tilting began. For an hour the handsome joust went on, the Earl of
Oxford, Charles Howard, Sir Henry Lee, Sir Christopher Hatton, and
Leicester challenging, and so even was the combat that victory seemed to
settle in the plumes of neither, though Leicester of them all showed not
the greatest skill, while in some regards greatest grace and deportment.
Suddenly there rode into the lists, whence, no one seemed to know, so
intent had the public gaze been fixed, so quickly had he come, a mounted
figure all in white, and at the moment when Sir Henry Lee had cried
aloud his challenge for the last time. Silence fell as the bright figure
cantered down the list, lifted the gauge, and sat still upon his black
steed. Consternation fell. None among the people or the Knights Tilters
knew who the invader was, and Leicester called upon the Masters of the
Ceremonies to demand his name and quality. The white horseman made
no reply, but sat unmoved, while noise and turmoil suddenly sprang up
around him.

Presently the voice of the Queen was heard clearly ringing through the
lists. "His quality hath evidence. Set on."

The Duke's Daughter laughed, and whispered mischievously in Angele's
ear.

The gentlemen of England fared ill that day in the sight of all the
people, for the challenger of the Knights Tilters was more than a match
for each that came upon him. He rode like a wild horseman of Yucatan.
Wary, resourceful, sudden in device and powerful in onset, he bore all
down, until the Queen cried: "There hath not been such skill in England
since my father rode these lists. Three of my best gentlemen down, and
it hath been but breathing to him. Now, Sir Harry Lee, it is thy turn,"
she laughed as she saw the champion ride forward; "and next 'ti