De la Foret," he grunted.

"I'll get me to the bed in yonder room--'tis easier than this couch."

"Two hours ago you could not bear the bed, and must get you to the
couch--and now! Seigneur, do you know the weight you are?" he added,
laughing, as he stooped, and helping Lempriere gently to his feet,
raised him slowly in his arms and went heavily with him to the bedroom.
Angele watched him with a strange thrill of timid admiration and
delight. Surely it could not be that Michel--her Michel--could be bought
from his allegiance by any influence on earth. There was the same old
simple laugh on his lips, as, with chaffing words, he carried the huge
Seigneur to the other room. Her heart acquitted him then and there of
all blame, past or to come.

"Michel!" she said aloud involuntarily--the call of her spirit which
spoke on her lips against her will.

De la Foret had helped Lempriere to the bed again as he heard his name
called, and he stood suddenly still, looking straight before him into
space. Angele's voice seemed ghostly and unreal.

"Michel!" he heard again, and he came forward into the room where she
was. Yet once again she said the word scarcely above a whisper, for the
look of rapt wonder and apprehension in his manner overcame her. Now he
turned towards her, where she stood in the shadow by the door. He
saw her, but even yet he did not stir, for she seemed to him still an
apparition.

With a little cry she came forward to him. "Michel--help me!" she
murmured, and stretched out her hands. With a cry of joy he took her in
his arms and pressed her to his heart. Then a realisation of danger came
to him.

"Why did you come?" he asked.

She told him hastily. He heard with astonishment, and then said: "There
is some foul trick here. Have you the message?" She handed it to him.
"It is the surgeon's writing, verily," he said; "but it is still a
trick, for the sick man here is Rozel. I see it all. You and I forbidden
to meet--it was a trick to bring you here."

"Oh, let me go!" she cried. "Michel, Michel, take me hence." She turned
towards the door.

"The gates are closed," he said, as a cannon boomed on the evening air.

Angele trembled violently. "Oh, what will come of this?" she cried, in
tearful despair.

"Be patient, sweet, and let me think," he answered. At that moment there
came a knocking at the door, then it was thrown open, and there stepped
inside the Earl of Leicester, preceded by a page bearing a to