th
holy things, even at Rheims at the sacring. For when she was at Rheims,
no armorial bearings had yet been given to her. Herein, then, as always,
they lied in their cruel throats; for, as the Psalmist says, "Quare
fremuerunt gentes?"

All these evil tongues, and all thought of evil days, were far from us as
we stood looking at the work, and praising it, as well we might, for
never had my master wrought so well. Now, as I studied on the paintings,
I well saw that my master had drawn the angel of the pennon in the
likeness of his own daughter Elliot. Wonderful it was to see her fair
face and blue eyes, holy and humble, with the gold halo round her head.

"Ah, love," I said, "that banner I could follow far, pursuing fame and
the face of my lady!"

With that we fell into such dalliance and kind speech as lovers use,
wholly rapt from the world in our happiness.

Even then, before we so much as heard his step at the door, my master
entered, and there stood we, my arm about her neck and hers about my
body, embracing me.

He stood with eyes wide open, and gave one long whistle.

"Faith!" he cried, "our surgery hath wrought miracles! You are whole
beyond what I looked for; but surely you are deaf, for my step is heavy
enough, yet, me thinks, you heard me not."

Elliot spoke no word, but drawing me very heedfully to a settle that was
by the side of the room, she fled without looking behind her.

"Sir," I said, as soon as she was gone, "I need make no long story--"

"Faith, no!" he answered, standing back from the banner and holding his
hands at each side of his eyes, regarding his work as limners do. "You
twain, I doubt not, were smitten senseless by these great masterpieces,
and the thought of the holy use to which they were made."

"That might well have been, sir, but what we had covenanted to tell you
this day we have told unwittingly, methinks, already. I could not be in
your daughter's company, and have the grace of her gentle ministerings--"

"But you must stand senseless before her father's paintings? Faith, you
are a very grateful lad! But so it is, and I am not one of those blind
folk who see not what is under their eyes. And now, what now? Well, I
can tell you. You are to be healed, and follow these flags to war, and
win your spurs, and much wealth by ransoms, and so make my lass your
lady. Is it not so?"

I was abashed by his "bourdes," and could say nought, for, being still
very weak, the