is feet in a moment, and killed the man; but his own
hurt was a grievous one, for the arrow had been a poisoned one, so, what
with his poisoned wound and what with his sorrow that Iseult was so kept a
prisoner by King Mark, that he could neither see her nor hear from her,
he was very ill for a long time, and like to die. And no one had the
skill to cure him but La Belle Iseult, and she might not do so.

Hearing, though, by some means, of his sad condition she sent to him a
message by Dame Bragwaine's cousin, bidding him to go to Brittany, for
King Howell's daughter, Iseult la Blanche Mains,--or Iseult of the White
Hands,--could cure him, and no one else. So he took a ship and went, and
this other Iseult healed his wounds, and restored him to perfect health.
But she grew to love him, too, for he was a man to whom all women's hearts
softened.

She was but a child, this White-handed Iseult. She had barely reached her
sixteenth year. And though she thought of her unasked love with shame,
and though she ever strove to hide it, it shone in her soft brown eyes,
and pale face, and filled Sir Tristram's heart with pain for her. So he
left the court and sailed the seas again, hoping that she would forget
him, and learn to love someone else.

Now, though Sir Tristram could not tear the love of La Belle Iseult from
his heart, he did not spend his life in moans and sad regrets. He gave
his life to helping the oppressed, and destroying the oppressors; to
helping to right wrongs, and in all ways living a good and noble life
worthy of the lady who loved him.

His liking for the sea was great, too, so that he spent many days and
nights on board his own good ship, and often he thought of the time when
La Belle Iseult crossed the sea with him, of the sunny days and starry
nights, the peace, the joy, and the happiness of that sweet time.
And his heart ached cruelly, and he was full of sadness, for he was a very
lonely man now, with no hope of happiness before him.

Then one day in his loneliness came the thought of that other lonely
heart,--kind little Iseult of the White Hands, and of her love for him.
"She suffers as I do," he said. "Why should two women suffer so for my
sake? I cannot love her as she deserves, but I will try to make her
happy." So, turning the vessel's head, he made once more for Brittany,
and there he found that an earl called Grip was making great war upon King
Howell, and was getting the mastery. So Sir