ssistance, bent his head, and
making a sign that he was unable to speak, turned towards his horse.

'Cousin, cousin,' exclaimed the lady, in whose fine black eyes tears
were standing, 'you will let me take you into the city--you cannot
refuse.'

'Berry, indeed you cannot ride,' entreated Philip; 'you must take her
offer. Are you getting crazed at last?'

Berenger hesitated for a moment, but he felt himself again dizzy; the
exertion of springing into his saddle was quite beyond him, and bending
his head he submitted passively to be helped into the black and white
coach. Humfrey, however, clutched Philip's arm, and said impressively,
'Have a care, sir; this is no other than the fine lady, sister to the
murderous villain that set upon him. If you would save his life, don't
quit him, nor let her take him elsewhere than to our Ambassador's. I'll
not leave the coach-door, and as soon as we are past the barriers, I'll
send Jack Smithers to make known we are coming.'

Philip, without further ceremony, followed the lady into the coach,
where he found her insisting that Berenger, who had sunk back in a
corner, should lay his length of limb, muddy boots and all, upon the
white velvet cushions richly worked in black and silver, with devices
and mottoes, in which the crescent moon, and eclipsed or setting suns,
made a great figure. The original inmates seemed to have disposed of
themselves in various nooks of the ample conveyance, and Philip, rather
at a loss to explain his intrusion, perched himself awkwardly on the
edge of the cushions in front of his brother, thinking that Humfrey
was an officious, suspicious fellow, to distrust this lovely lady, who
seemed so exceedingly shocked and grieved at Berenger's condition. 'Ah!
I never guessed it had been so frightful as this. I should not have
known him. Ah! had I imagined---' She leant back, covered her face, and
wept, as one overpowered; then, after a few seconds, she bent forward,
and would have taken the hand that hung listlessly down, but it was at
once withdrawn, and folded with the other on his breast.

'Can you be more at ease? Do you suffer much?' she asked, with sympathy
and tenderness that went to Philip's heart, and he explained. 'He cannot
speak, Madame; the shot in his cheek' (the lady shuddered, and put
her handkerchief to her eyes) 'from time to time cases this horrible
swelling and torture. After that he will be better.'

'Frightful, frightful,' she sighed, 'but