yland
leaned back to reach a feather-fan from a side-table, and then softly
wafted the air to and fro till the words began to grow more broken, and
at last ceased, as the boy uttered a low, weary sigh, his breath grew
more regular, and he sank into the deep heavy sleep of exhausted nature.

Then the fan dropped from Lady Royland's hand, and she rose to cross the
room softly, and with a line draw up the casement of the narrow slit of
a window which looked down upon the moat, for the night wind came
fresher there than from the main windows looking upon the garden court.

Softly returning, she bent down, and with the lightest of fingers untied
the collar of her son's doublet and linen shirt, before bending lower,
with her long curls drooping round his face, till she could kiss his
brow, no longer dank and chilly, but softly, naturally warm.

This before sinking upon her knees to watch by his side for the
remainder of the night; and as she knelt her lips parted to murmur--

"God save the king--my husband--and our own brave boy!"

A moment later, as if it were an answer to her prayer, a voice, softened
by the distance, was heard from the ramparts somewhere above uttering
the familiar reply to a challenge--

"All's well!"

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

ROY GETS OVER HIS FIT.

The dawn came, and Lady Royland still knelt by the couch where her son
slept heavily. She did not stir till the sun rose, and then she rose
softly to go to the narrow slit in the massive wall, reach as far as she
could into the deep splay, and gaze out.

She sighed, for far-away in the distance she could see mounted men with
the sun flashing from their armour.

She turned back, for she had learned all she wished to know--the enemy
was still there; and, wondering what that day might bring forth, she
went and sat down now by her son's head to watch him as he slept.

The time crept on with the sounds of the awakening household mingled
with the clangour of the morning calls and the tramp of armed men
floating in through the window; but the watcher did not stir till the
door was opened, and a couple of the maids appeared, to start back in
affright, after a wondering glance at the untouched meal upon the table,
for Lady Royland rose quickly with a gesture to them to be silent.

They crept away, and she followed to the door.

"Prepare the breakfast in the library," she said, and then returned to
her seat.

The clock chimed and struck again and a