sighed for twice seven years, and all too
brief a trial of their truth and constancy! As she listened, her soul
seemed to hang on the minstrel's tongue; that erratic troubadour, Gaffer
Gee, being a welcome and frequent visitor at Grislehurst.

One night he had tarried late in the little chamber, where she was wont
to give him audience. She seemed more wishful to protract his stay than
heretofore.

"Now for the ballad of Sir Bertine, the famous Lancashire knight, who
was killed at St Alban's, fighting for the glorious red rose of
Lancaster."

Nothing loth, he commenced the following ditty:--

"The brave Sir Bartine Entwisel
Hath donned his coat of steel,
And left his hall and stately home,
To fight for Englond's weal.

"To fight for Englond's weal, I trow,
And good King Harry's right,
His loyal heart was warm and true,
His sword and buckler bright.

"That sword once felt the craven foe,
Its hilt was black with gore,
And many a mother's son did rue
His might at Agincourt.

"And now he stately steps his hall,
'A summons from the king?
My armour bright, my casque and plume,
My sword and buckler bring.

"'Blow, warder, blow. Thy horn is shrill,
My liegemen hither call,
For I must away to the south countrie,
And spears and lances all.'

"'Oh, go not to the south countrie!'
His lady weeping said;
'Oh, go not to the battle-field,
For I dreamed of the waters red!'

"'Oh, go not to the south countrie!'
Cried out his daughter dear;
'Oh, go not to the bloody fight,
For I dreamed of the waters clear!'

"Sir Bertine raised his dark visor,
And he kissed his fond lady;
'I must away to the wars and fight
For our king in jeopardy!'

"The lady gat her to the tower,
She clomb the battlement;
She watched and greet, while through the woods
The glittering falchions went.

"The wind was high, the storm grew loud,
Fierce rose the billowy sea;
When from Sir Bertine's lordly tower
The bell boomed heavily!

"'O mother dear, what bodes that speech
From yonder iron tongue?'
''Tis but the rude, rude blast, my love,
That idle bell hath swung.'

"Upon the rattling casement still
The beating rain fell fast;
When creeping fingers wandering thrice
Across that window passed.

"'O