ermission to return to her father; and hath bidden me ask it of you."

He nodded his head, as if the petition were too trifling to be heeded;
and, having got what I was in need of, I withdrew, thankful.

Next day, at daybreak, the maiden, white as a sheet, and with lips
close-pressed to hinder their trembling, walked slowly across the bridge
to the castle gate. I had got her two horses, one for her and one for
the old nurse; and a trusty escort of six McDonnells and the English
soldier to conduct her to Toome.

At parting she held out her hand.

"Humphrey," said she, "tell him of this; and may she who loves you never
lose you as I have lost him."

"All is not lost," said I, "we shall meet again, and all will be happy
yet." And I lifted her to her horse.

"Now, sirrah," said the old nurse, as I did the like service for her,
"be happy for a year and a day! You have broken a sweet heart among
you, and what matters it to you, so you be rid of us? Mark my word;
some heads shall ache for this! What is to become of us, do you
suppose, in this O'Neill's house? Little trouble to you to send us from
one cruel fate to a worse! Be proud that you, a soldier, forsooth, and
calling yourself an honest man, thus betray my poor maiden to her step-
dame and your English Captain."

"He is dead by now," said I.

"Not he," said she. "What is to become of us, dost thou hear? Who is
to help us now?"

"Dame," said I, "is there no God in heaven that you chide thus?
Farewell, we shall meet again, I think, in a happier season."

Then I stepped once more to the maiden and said:

"Lady, that maiden's name we spoke of is young Mistress Walgrave, the
printer's daughter in London. Should chance bring you thither, she will
be your friend for my sake. If it be possible, pray send us word
presently of your welfare by this English fellow."

Thus that maiden left Dunluce; and still the days passed and no tidings
of Ludar.

But one evening, as I watched at the gate, a haggard figure crossed the
bridge, scarce dragging one foot after another for weariness.

"Ludar!" said I, as I admitted him. "What news?"

"No news!" said he between his teeth, and he flung his sword with what
little strength was left him to the earth. Then he himself fell beside
it; and, when we carried him within, he was in a fever and raving.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

HOW A DOG'S HEAD WAS SET ON DUBLIN GATE.

Three months after, as the February snow lay dee