was. But,
fair mistress, you may have heard how Raymond de Brocas soothed the
dying bed of my father, and tended him when all else, even his son, had
fled from his side; and albeit at the moment even that service did not
soften my hard heart, in the times that followed, when I was left alone
to muse on what had passed, I repented me of my old and bitter enmity,
and resolved, if ever we should meet again, to strive to make amends for
the past. I knew that he loved you, and that you loved him; and I vowed
I would keep away and let his suit prosper if it might. I appeal to you,
fair mistress, to say how that vow has been kept."

"I have certainly seen naught of you these past years," answered Joan.
"But I myself have been a wanderer."

"Had you not been, my vow would have been as sacredly kept," was the
quick reply. "I had resolved to see you no more, since I might never
call you mine. I strove to banish your image from my mind by going forth
into the world; and when this chance of fighting for the King arose, I
was one who sailed to the relief of the English garrison."

She made no response, but her clear gaze was slightly disconcerting; he
looked away and spoke rapidly.

"Raymond de Brocas was on board the vessel that bore us from England's
shores: ask if it be not so, an you believe me not. We were brothers in
arms, and foes no longer. I sought him out and told him all that was in
my heart. You know his nature -- brave, candid, fearless. He showed his
nobility of soul by giving to me the right hand of fellowship. Ere the
voyage ended we were friends in truth. When the day of battle came we
rode side by side against the foe."

Joan's interest was aroused. She knew Raymond well. She knew his
nobility of nature -- his generous impulse to forgive a past foe, to
bury all enmity. If Sanghurst had sought him with professions of
contrition, might he not have easily been believed? And yet was such an
one as this to be trusted?

"In the melee -- for the fighting was hard and desperate -- we were
separated: he carried one way and I another. When the French were driven
back or taken captive I sought for Raymond everywhere, but for long
without avail. At last I found him, wounded to the death. I might not
even move him to our lines. I could but give him drink and watch beside
him as he slowly sank.

"It was then he spoke of thee, Joan." Sanghurst's voice took a new tone,
and seemed to quiver slightly; he dropped the more fo