d the handkerchief kept her eye upon the knight
who had bound it round his lance. "Who is he, John?" she asked the
gentleman beside her.

"That, my dear Rowena, is my good friend and client, George Tryon, of
North Carolina. If he had been a stranger, I should have said that he
took a liberty; but as things stand, we ought to regard it as a
compliment. The incident is quite in accord with the customs of
chivalry. If George were but masked and you were veiled, we should
have a romantic situation,--you the mysterious damsel in distress, he
the unknown champion. The parallel, my dear, might not be so hard to
draw, even as things are. But look, it is his turn now; I'll wager
that he makes a good run."

"I'll take you up on that, Mr. Warwick," said Mrs. Newberry from
behind, who seemed to have a very keen ear for whatever Warwick said.

Rena's eyes were fastened on her knight, so that she might lose no
single one of his movements. As he rode down the lists, more than one
woman found him pleasant to look upon. He was a tall, fair young man,
with gray eyes, and a frank, open face. He wore a slight mustache, and
when he smiled, showed a set of white and even teeth. He was mounted
on a very handsome and spirited bay mare, was clad in a picturesque
costume, of which velvet knee-breeches and a crimson scarf were the
most conspicuous features, and displayed a marked skill in
horsemanship. At the blast of the bugle his horse started forward,
and, after the first few rods, settled into an even gallop. Tryon's
lance, held truly and at the right angle, captured the first ring, then
the second and third. His coolness and steadiness seemed not at all
disturbed by the applause which followed, and one by one the remaining
rings slipped over the point of his lance, until at the end he had
taken every one of the twelve. Holding the lance with its booty of
captured rings in his left hand, together with the bridle rein, he drew
his sabre with the right and rode back over the course. His horse moved
like clockwork, his eye was true and his hand steady. Three of the
wooden balls fell from the posts, split fairly in the middle, while
from the fourth he sliced off a goodly piece and left the remainder
standing in its place.

This performance, by far the best up to this point, and barely escaping
perfection, elicited a storm of applause. The rider was not so well
known to the townspeople as some of the other participants, and his