As she spoke she looked up and saw one of her women in waiting standing by.

“Well, what would you?”—­“My lady, there is one who would speak with you,” said the hand-maiden.

“With me?”—­“Yes, my lady; he named you the Lady Bertha de Cauci.”

“Who and what is he?” she inquired, with something like trepidation, of the maiden.—­“I know not, my lady.”

“But gave he not some token by which I might know who I admit to my chamber?”—­“None,” replied the maiden.

“And what does he bear by way of distinguishing himself?  What crest or device doth he bear?”—­“Merely a green shield.”

“The unsuccessful knight in the tournament to-day.  Heaven’s! what can he desire with me; he is not—­no, no, it cannot be—­it cannot be.”—­“Will you admit him, lady?”

“Indeed, I know not what to do; but yet he may have some intelligence to give me.  Yes, yes, admit him; but first throw some logs on the fire.”

The attendant did as she was desired, and then quitted the room for the purpose of admitting the stranger knight with the green shield.  In a few moments she could hear the stride of the knight as he entered the apartment, and she thought the step was familiar to her ear—­she thought it was the step of Sir Arthur Home, her lover.  She waited anxiously to see the door open, and then the stranger entered.  His form and bearing was that of her lover, but his visor was down, and she was unable to distinguish the features of the stranger.

His armour was such as had seen many a day’s hard wear, and there were plenty of marks of the battle about him.  His travel-worn accoutrements were altogether such as bespoke service in the field.

“Sir, you desired to see me; say wherefore you do so, and if it is news you bring.”  The knight answered not, but pointed to the female attendant, as if he desired she would withdraw.  “You may retire,” said Bertha; “be within call, and let me know if I am threatened with interruption.”

The attendant retired, and then the knight and lady were left alone.  The former seemed at a loss how to break silence for some moments, and then he said,—­

“Lady ——­“—­“Oh, Heavens! ’tis he!” exclaimed Bertha, as she sprang to her feet; “it is Sir Arthur Home!”

“It is,” exclaimed the knight, pulling up his visor, and dropping on one knee he encircled his arm round the waist of the lady, and at the same moment he pressed her lips to his own.

The first emotion of joy and surprise over, Bertha checked her transports, and chid the knight for his boldness.

“Nay, chide me not, dear Bertha; lam what I was when I left you, and hope to find you the same.”

“Am I not?” said Bertha.—­“Truly I know not, for you seem more beautiful than you were then; I hope that is the only change.”

“If there be a change, it is only such as you see.  Sorrow and regret form the principal causes.”—­“I understand you.”