their departure all went well for a time. Indeed, it was as though
the years had flown back, and my lady was once more a girl, so
light-hearted and joyous was she, pleased with the novelty of being left
governor of that great Castle. It seemed but a bit of play when, after
ordering the house and setting the maidens to their tasks, she went
round the walls with Walter Brand, a lame archer, who was gently born,
and whom she had put in charge of our little fighting force, to see that
all the men were at their posts.

And mere play it seemed to her still, when, some two weeks after my
lord's departure, as she was sitting sewing in her little chamber, whose
windows looked straight out over the sea, and I was rocking Mistress
Jean's cradle, and humming a lullaby, little Mistress Marjory, who was
five years old, and stirring for her age, came running down from the
watch-tower, where she had been with old Andrew, and cried out that a
great host of men on horseback were coming, and that old Andrew said
that it was the English.

We were laughing at the bairn's story, and wondering who the strangers
could be, when old Andrew himself appeared, a look of concern on his
usually jocund face.

"Oh, my lady," he cried, "there be a body of armed men moving towards
the Castle, led by a knight in splendid armour. A squire rides in front
of him, carrying his banner; but the device is unknown to me, and I fear
me it was never wrought by Scottish hands."

"Ah ha," laughed the Countess, rising and throwing away her tapestry.
"Thou scentest an Englishman, dost thou, Andrew? Mayhap thy thoughts
have run on them so much of late, that the habit hath dimmed thine
eyes."

"Nay, nay, my lady," stammered old Andrew, half hurt by her gentle
raillery, "mine een are keen enough as yet, although my limbs be old."

"'Tis but my sport, Andrew," she answered kindly. "I have always loved a
jest, and I have no wish to grow old and grave before my time, even if I
have the care of a whole Castle on my shoulders. But hark, there be the
stranger's trumpets sounding before the gate. See to it that Walter
Brand listens to his message, and answers it as befits the dignity of
our house: and thou, do thou mount to thy watch-tower, and keep a good
lookout on all that passes."

We waited in silence for some little space; we could hear the sound of
voices, but no distinct words reached us.

At last Walter Brand came halting to the door and knocked. Like old
Andr