with
drawn swords and bills, and little Myles, crying out with terror, hid
his face in his father's long gown.

The next instant came the sound of a heavy blow and of a groan, then
another blow and the sound of one falling upon the ground. Then the
clashing of steel, and in the midst Lord Falworth crying, in a dreadful
voice, "Thou traitor! thou coward! thou murderer!"

Master Robert snatched Myles away from his father, and bore him out of
the room in spite of his screams and struggles, and he remembered just
one instant's sight of Sir John lying still and silent upon his face,
and of the black knight standing above him, with the terrible mace in
his hand stained a dreadful red.

It was the next day that Lord and Lady Falworth and little Myles,
together with three of the more faithful of their people, left the
castle.

His memory of past things held a picture for Myles of old Diccon Bowman
standing over him in the silence of midnight with a lighted lamp in his
hand, and with it a recollection of being bidden to hush when he would
have spoken, and of being dressed by Diccon and one of the women,
bewildered with sleep, shuddering and chattering with cold.

He remembered being wrapped in the sheepskin that lay at the foot of
his bed, and of being carried in Diccon Bowman's arms down the silent
darkness of the winding stair-way, with the great black giant shadows
swaying and flickering upon the stone wall as the dull flame of the lamp
swayed and flickered in the cold breathing of the night air.

Below were his father and mother and two or three others. A stranger
stood warming his hands at a newly-made fire, and little Myles, as he
peeped from out the warm sheepskin, saw that he was in riding-boots and
was covered with mud. He did not know till long years afterwards that
the stranger was a messenger sent by a friend at the King's court,
bidding his father fly for safety.

They who stood there by the red blaze of the fire were all very still,
talking in whispers and walking on tiptoes, and Myles's mother hugged
him in her arms, sheepskin and all, kissing him, with the tears
streaming down her cheeks, and whispering to him, as though he could
understand their trouble, that they were about to leave their home
forever.

Then Diccon Bowman carried him out into the strangeness of the winter
midnight.

Outside, beyond the frozen moat, where the osiers, stood stark and stiff
in their winter nakedness, was a group of dar