rm of the Outlaw of Torn for the
first time.

The Queen gave a little cry as she saw the still, quiet face turned up
to hers.

"Edward!" she whispered.

"Not Edward, Madame," said De Montfort, "but--"

The King knelt beside the still form, across the breast of which lay the
unconscious body of Bertrade de Montfort. Gently, he lifted her to the
waiting arms of Philip of France, and then the King, with his own hands,
tore off the shirt of mail, and with trembling fingers ripped wide the
tunic where it covered the left breast of the Devil of Torn.

"Oh God!" he cried, and buried his head in his arms.

The Queen had seen also, and with a little moan she sank beside the body
of her second born, crying out:

"Oh Richard, my boy, my boy!" And as she bent still lower to kiss the
lily mark upon the left breast of the son she had not seen to know for
over twenty years, she paused, and with frantic haste she pressed her
ear to his breast.

"He lives!" she almost shrieked. "Quick, Henry, our son lives!"

Bertrade de Montfort had regained consciousness almost before Philip of
France had raised her from the floor, and she stood now, leaning on
his arm, watching with wide, questioning eyes the strange scene being
enacted at her feet.

Slowly, the lids of Norman of Torn lifted with returning consciousness.
Before him, on her knees in the blood spattered rushes of the floor,
knelt Eleanor, Queen of England, alternately chafing and kissing his
hands.

A sore wound indeed to have brought on such a wild delirium, thought the
Outlaw of Torn.

He felt his body, in a half sitting, half reclining position, resting
against one who knelt behind him, and as he lifted his head to see whom
it might be supporting him, he looked into the eyes of the King, upon
whose breast his head rested.

Strange vagaries of a disordered brain! Yes it must have been a very
terrible wound that the little old man of Torn had given him; but why
could he not dream that Bertrade de Montfort held him? And then his eyes
wandered about among the throng of ladies, nobles and soldiers standing
uncovered and with bowed heads about him. Presently he found her.

"Bertrade!" he whispered.

The girl came and knelt beside him, opposite the Queen.

"Bertrade, tell me thou art real; that thou at least be no dream."

"I be very real, dear heart," she answered, "and these others be real,
also. When thou art stronger, thou shalt understand the strange thing
that