“I had rather it passed off quietly,” suggested De la Zouch, who was by no means confident of his own prowess in a stern contest with naked weapons.  “It is only by thy direct command that I have consented to enter the lists to fight him.  ’Tis more a case for the assize than for thee.  Sir George, and I have my honour to maintain.”

“You must let that remain with me,” replied the baron.  “Eustace is but a page, and as Manners rightly enough pointed out, his word would count for little in such a circumstance.  But apart from all such considerations, I flatly tell you, Sir Henry, that I don’t for a minute think him guilty.  The ordeal—­”

“Tut, bother the ordeal,” broke in De la Zouch, who was rapidly losing control of his temper.  “Then you doubt me?”

“You are rash, sir knight,” interrupted Lady Maude.  “You do not do proper justice to the baron.”

“Hark! what’s that?” whispered Lettice, “There’s someone coming.”

“Inside?”

“No, don’t you hear them coming on the gravel?”

“Listen,” exclaimed Doll, nervously, “’twas but Eustace, the page, stealing away; he’s been playing eavesdropper.”

“Like us,” laughed the maid.

“Hush!  Sir Henry is talking.  How excited he is.  Listen.”

“I humbly crave his pardon then, fair lady.  When shall I learn what fate you have in store for me?”

“Not till after the tournament, at least,” promptly replied Lady Vernon.

“And that will be—­prithee when?”

“This day week, and in the meantime I would advise you as a friend to practise well with your arms,” and, added the baron with grim humour, “say your prayers day by day, Sir Henry, for Manners has not fought in the Netherlands for naught.”

“Then I shall present myself before you, Lady Vernon, at the conclusion of the tourney,” he loftily replied, “and I will have my answer then.”

“If so be, that is, that there be aught left of thee to come,” supplemented Sir George, considerably nettled at the other’s tone, “for I hear that Manners is terrible with the sword.”

“Thank you, sir baron,” was the proud retort, “but I have learnt ere now how to hold the lance, and can wield the mace;” and without deigning to cast a look behind him he strode away in an ill humour with himself and everybody else, to scowl in silence at the group of merrymakers on the green.

“There, a pretty lover!” exclaimed Dorothy, as her suitor walked away, “but I have given him his answer.”

“Hush, my lady,” whispered the maid.

“We shall be able to get it all arranged for a week to-day, and you shall be queen of the tourney, Maude, if it so please you.”

“I, Sir George?  I indeed!” replied the dame.  “Pooh! my queening days are gone.  It must be either Margaret or Dorothy.”

“Fancy,” whispered Lattice, “you the queen of the tournament!”

“Hush!”

“But I hear he is likely to lose the Ashby estates.  Think of that, Sir George; think of that.  He would be a poor man directly.”