thing; and it will be a comfort for me to know,
in the future, you will not be running such fearful risks."

At La Rochelle they took up their abode at Maitre Bertram's, and
were most kindly received by him and his daughter.

"It is but two years since you landed here with madame, your
mother, Monsieur Fletcher. You were but a stripling then, though
you gave wonderful promise of size and strength. Now you are a man,
and have won the honour of knighthood; and methinks that, in thew
and sinew, there are not many in our army who would overmatch you."

"Oh, yes, there are, Maitre Bertram," Philip laughed. "I have a big
frame like my father's, I will admit; and to look at, it may be as
you say; but I shall want many another year over my head, before my
strength matches my size. I am but just eighteen, and men do not
come to their full strength till they are five-and-twenty."

"You are strong enough for anything, now," the merchant said; "and
I should not like to stand a downright blow from you, in the best
suit of armour ever forged.

"I was glad to see that rascal Pierre come back with you. He is a
merry fellow, though I fear that he causes idleness among my
servants, for all the grave looks he puts on as he waits on you at
dinner. Is he valiant?"

"He has had no great opportunity of showing valour," Philip
replied; "but he is cool, and not easily ruffled, and he fought
stoutly in the defence of the Count de Laville's chateau; but of
course, it is not his business to ride behind me in battle."

Philip had corresponded regularly with his parents, and had
received letters in reply from them, and also from his uncle and
aunt; though these of course came irregularly, as ships happened to
be sailing for La Rochelle. His father wrote but briefly, but his
letters expressed satisfaction.

"I am right glad," he said, "to think that a Fletcher is again
cracking the skulls of Frenchmen--I mean, of course, of Catholic
Frenchmen--for I regard the Huguenots, being of our religion, as
half English. I don't say take care of yourself, my lad--it is not
the way of Englishmen to do that, on the battlefield--but it would
be a grievous day for us all, here, if we heard that aught had
befallen you."

The letters of his mother and aunt were of a different character,
and dwelt strongly upon the sacred cause upon which he was engaged;
and both rejoiced greatly over the number of Huguenots he and
Francois had rescued, round Niort.

His