e was content to rest yet awhile beneath the
hospitable roof of the Figeons, so long as he knew that his
presence there might be something of a protection and gain to its
inmates; but he had no intention of being a prisoner. His young
blood stirred within him, and he longed to be out in the free air
of heaven again. His strength had all come back, and even the
broken arm was mending so fast that he felt it would not be long
before he should gain its full use again. The love of adventure,
strong within him, made him fearless even of a second encounter
with the robbers. He felt certain he could hold his own against one
or two, and a whole band would never take him unawares. He should
hear or see them in plenty of time to hide away in some tree or
thicket. It was absurd to be chained within doors any longer.

Paul was looking now a very different object from the battered and
way-worn traveller who had rescued Joan from the robbers. A couple
of weeks' rest and good feeding had given a healthy glow to his
cheek, had brightened his eye, and brought back the native
boyishness and brightness to his face. He was stronger, gayer,
blither than he had been since the never-to-be-forgotten day when
he had closed his dead mother's eyes, and been obliged to fly for
his life from his ancestral halls, ere the rapacious scions of the
House of York fell upon him there, to take into their own
possession all that should have been his. For his father and
brothers lay in a bloody grave, killed in one of those many risings
and insurrections scarce mentioned in history, whereby the
adherents of the Red Rose sought to disturb Edward's rule in
England, and incite the people to bring back him they called their
rightful king.

Those days had changed Paul, a mere lad of seventeen, into a grave
and sad-faced man; but the impression had gradually worn somewhat
faint during the three years in which he had been a wanderer and an
outcast from his home. Of late it had seemed to him that his lost
youth was returning, and certainly there was that in his bright
glance and erect and noble bearing which won for him universal
admiration and affection.

He was, in truth, a right goodly youth. His features were very
fine, and the dark-gray eyes with their delicately-pencilled brows
were full of fire and brilliance. The lips readily curved to a
bright smile, though they could set themselves in lines of resolute
determination when occasion demanded. The golden