nt, her eyes shining, her cheek
on fire, her voice thrilling with pride. She seemed not to feel the
cold. She welcomed the hardships of wind and falling snow as her
opportunity. She desired not only for escape, but also to endure.

Wogan looked her over from head to foot, filled with pride and
admiration. He had made no mistake; he had plucked this rose of the
world to give to his King. His eyes said it; and the girl, reading them,
drew a breath and rippled out a laugh of gladness that his trusted
servant was so well content with her. But the Princess-mother stood
unmoved.

"My daughter cannot go to-night," she repeated resentfully. "I do forbid
it."

Wogan had his one argument. This one argument was his last resource. He
had chosen it carefully with an eye to the woman whom it was to
persuade. It was not couched as an inducement; it did not claim the
discharge of an obligation; it was not a reply to any definite
objection. Such arguments would only have confirmed her in her
stubbornness. He made accordingly an appeal to sentiment.

"Your Highness's daughter," said he, "spoke a minute since of the
hazards my friends and I have run to compass her escape. As regards four
of us, the words reached beyond our deserts. For we are men. Such
hazards are our portion; they are seldom lightened by so high an aim.
But the fifth! The words, however kind, were still below that fifth
one's merits; for the fifth is a woman."

"I know. With all my heart I thank her. With all my heart I pity her."

"But there is one thing your Highness does not know. She runs our
risks,--the risk of capture, the risk of the night, the storm, the snow,
she a woman by nature timid and frail,--yet with never in all her life
so great a reason for timidity, or so much frailty of health as now. We
venture our lives, but she ventures more."

The mother bowed her head; Clementina looked fixedly at Wogan.

"Speak plainly, my friend," she said. "There are no children here."

"Madam, I need but quote to you the words her husband used. For my part,
I think that nobler words were never spoken, and with her whole heart
she repeats them. They are these: 'The boy would only live to serve his
King; why should he not serve his King before he lives?'"

The mother was still silent, but Wogan could see that the tears
overbrimmed her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Clementina was silent
for a while too, and stood with her eyes fixed thoughtfully on Wogan.
Then sh