y; "but I had better not speak of that here--eh,
Chris?"

Ralph looked blandly at his plate.

"Chris did not mention that," he said. "Tell us, Nick."

"No, no," cried Nicholas. "I do not want you to go with tales to town.
Your ears are too quick, my friend. Then there was that about the Host
flying from Calais, eh, Chris? No, no; you said you had heard nothing of
that."

Chris looked up and his face was a little flushed.

"No, Nick," he said.

"There seems to have been a great deal that Chris did not tell us--"
began Ralph.

Sir James glanced swiftly from his seat under the canopy.

"He told us all that was needed," he said.

"Aha!" broke out Nicholas again, "but the Holy Maid said that the King
would not live six months if he--"

Chris's face was full of despair and misery, and his father interrupted
once more.

"We had better not speak of that, my son," he said to Nicholas. "It is
best to leave such things alone."

Ralph was smiling broadly with tight lips by now.

"By my soul, Nick, you are the maddest wind-bag I have ever heard. All
our heads might go for what you have said to-night. Thank God the
servants are gone."

"Nick," cried Mary imploringly, "do hold your tongue."

Lady Torridon looked from one to the other with serene amusement, and
there was an odd pause such as generally fell when she showed signs of
speaking. Her lips moved but she said nothing, and ran her eyes over the
silver flagons before her.

When the Maxwells had gone at last, and prayers were over, Chris slipped
across the Court with a towel, and went up to the priest's room over the
sacristy. Mr. Carleton looked up from his lamp and rose.

"Yes, Chris," he said, "I will come. The moon will be up soon."

They went down together through the sacristy door on to the level
plateaux of lawns that stretched step after step down to the dark lake.
The sky was ablaze with stars, and in the East there was a growing light
in the quarter where the moon was at its rising. The woods beyond the
water were blotted masses against the sky; and the air was full of the
rich fragrance of the summer night. The two said very little, and the
priest stopped on the bank as Chris stepped out along the little boarded
pier that ran out among the rushes into deep water. There was a scurry
and a cry, and a moor-hen dashed out from under cover, and sped across
the pond, scattering the silver points that hung there motionless,
reflected from the heaven ov