at
you hear ringing out so sweetly. My father's farm is a mile beyond.
But I beseech you ride thither with me. My mother would be ill
pleased did I not bring home the gallant stranger who had saved me
from my foes. And Figeon's will be proud to shelter such a guest."

"I give you humble thanks, Mistress Joan, and gladly would I find
so hospitable a shelter. I am but a poor traveller, however,
roaming the world in search of the fame and fortune that come not.
I am one of those who have ever followed the failing fortunes of
the Red Rose of Lancaster, and sorry enough has often been my
plight. But if rumour speaks true, and the great Earl of Warwick
has placed King Henry once again on his throne, then perchance I
may retrieve the fallen fortunes of my house. My father and
brothers laid down their lives for his cause; his foes took
possession of our fair lands, and I was turned adrift on the wide
world. But tell me, ere we journey farther, which Rose you and your
house favour; for I would not bring trouble upon any, and my roving
life has taught me that the House of Lancaster has many bitter
foes."

"O sir, be not afraid," answered Joan eagerly; "we country folk are
quiet and peaceable, and care little who wears the crown, so as we
may till our land in peace, and be relieved from the hordes of
robbers and disbanded soldiers who have swarmed the country so
long. We have called ourselves Yorkists these past years, since
King Edward has been reigning; but I trow if what men say is true,
and he has fled the country without striking a blow for his crown,
and the great earl has placed King Henry on the throne again, that
we shall welcome him back. I know little of the great matters of
the day. My father bids me not trouble my head over things too hard
for me. I tend the poultry and the young calves, and let the
question of kings alone."

The traveller smiled at this; but his companion was evidently
something of a talker, and endued with her full share of feminine
curiosity.

"I would gladly know your name, fair sir," she said shyly, "for I
shall have to present you to my good father ere long."

"My name is Paul Stukely," he answered. "I am the youngest and only
surviving son of one of King Henry's knights and loyal adherents.
My parents are both dead, and I have long been alone in the world.
I have little to call my own save my good horse and trusty weapons.
But I sometimes hope that there may be better days in store, if