. .
"Only . . ."

"Only . . . only what?"

"Only that it is very rare and its proof requires strong demonstration
and long service."

"And I am ready to do both," he said eagerly.

"Then, one day, my lord, you will bring great joy to some loving
heart," she replied, looking him calmly in the eyes.

An awkward silence followed--that was not broken until Sir Aymer came
galloping back. With a familiarly courteous salute he swung Selim
around; and Lord Darby, seizing the opportunity, bowed low to the
Countess, and with a menacing glare at De Lacy--who met it with a
careless smile--he spurred away.

The Countess had observed Darby's look and she followed him with a
frown . . . and De Lacy wisely kept silent.

"I am glad you came," she said presently--then pulled Wilda to a walk.
"Let us loiter; since we are late it is small matter when we reach the
rendezvous."

"Why reach it at all?" he asked.

She hesitated.

"Why not ride?" he persisted.

She looked at the horses thoughtfully . . . then shook her head. "I
would far rather ride," she said, "but the Queen expects me; duty
calls."

"St. Denis! I had quite forgot--duty calls me, too."

But they did not take the horses from their walk, and it was far after
time when they reached the wide open space in the forest, where the
party had assembled.

Upon one side were pitched three large silk pavilions; the center one
of red and blue--the colors of the Kingdom; the others, gold and
blue--the colors of the House of York. In front and for a wide space
around on the soft turf were spread the thick carpets of the far East.
Before the tents paced two archers of the guard; and stationed at close
intervals around the clearing were a goodly force of those veterans,
all of whom had been among the personal retainers of Richard when he
was Duke of Gloucester.

Not over two score of the Court had been bidden, and these were
clustered before the royal pavilion when De Lacy and the Countess rode
up. A volley of chaff greeted them as he lifted her from the saddle.
One suggested that they had lost their way . . . another that it was a
shame to bring in horses so utterly exhausted . . . another that they
must have stumbled on the Court by accident . . . another that there
was powder on De Lacy's sleeve. . . And so it went; until Beatrix, in
sheer desperation, gathered her skirts about her and fled into the tent.

The Queen was alone, resting on a couch in the inner apar