against
this time. So get thee gone, think well over all these matters, and
prepare thyself by next Monday. But stay, sirrah," he added, as Myles,
dazed and bewildered, turned to obey; "breathe to no living soul what
I ha' told thee--that my Lord is thy friend--neither speak of anything
concerning him. Such is his own heavy command laid upon thee."

Then Myles turned again without a word to leave the room. But as he
reached the door Sir James stopped him a second time.

"Stay!" he called. "I had nigh missed telling thee somewhat else. My
Lord hath made thee a present this morning that thou wottest not of. It
is"--then he stopped for a few moments, perhaps to enjoy the full flavor
of what he had to say--"it is a great Flemish horse of true breed and
right mettle; a horse such as a knight of the noblest strain might be
proud to call his own. Myles Falworth, thou wert born upon a lucky day!"

"Sir," cried Myles, and then stopped short. Then, "Sir," he cried again,
"didst thou say it--the horse--was to be mine?"

"Aye, it is to be thine."

"My very own?"

"Thy very own."

How Myles Falworth left that place he never knew. He was like one in
some strange, some wonderful dream. He walked upon air, and his heart
was so full of joy and wonder and amazement that it thrilled almost to
agony. Of course his first thought was of Gascoyne. How he ever found
him he never could tell, but find him he did.

"Come, Francis!" he cried, "I have that to tell thee so marvellous that
had it come upon me from paradise it could not be more strange."

Then he dragged him away to their Eyry--it had been many a long day
since they had been there--and to all his friend's speeches, to all his
wondering questions, he answered never a word until they had climbed the
stairs, and so come to their old haunt. Then he spoke.

"Sit thee down, Francis," said he, "till I tell thee that which passeth
wonder." As Gascoyne obeyed, he himself stood looking about him. "This
is the last time I shall ever come hither," said he. And thereupon he
poured out his heart to his listening friend in the murmuring solitude
of the airy height. He did not speak of the Earl, but of the wonderful
new life that had thus suddenly opened before him, with its golden
future of limitless hopes, of dazzling possibilities, of heroic
ambitions. He told everything, walking up and down the while--for he
could not remain quiet--his cheeks glowing and his eyes sparkling.

Gascoyn