He had scarce completed the sentence when they instantly closed in combat.

But Leicester, who was a perfect master of defence among all other exterior accomplishments of the time, had seen on the preceding night enough of Tressilian’s strength and skill to make him fight with more caution than heretofore, and prefer a secure revenge to a hasty one.  For some minutes they fought with equal skill and fortune, till, in a desperate lunge which Leicester successfully put aside, Tressilian exposed himself at disadvantage; and in a subsequent attempt to close, the Earl forced his sword from his hand, and stretched him on the ground.  With a grim smile he held the point of his rapier within two inches of the throat of his fallen adversary, and placing his foot at the same time upon his breast, bid him confess his villainous wrongs towards him, and prepare for death.

“I have no villainy nor wrong towards thee to confess,” answered Tressilian, “and am better prepared for death than thou.  Use thine advantage as thou wilt, and may God forgive you!  I have given you no cause for this.”

“No cause!” exclaimed the Earl, “no cause!—­but why parley with such a slave?  Die a liar, as thou hast lived!”

He had withdrawn his arm for the purpose of striking the fatal blow, when it was suddenly seized from behind.

The Earl turned in wrath to shake off the unexpected obstacle, but was surprised to find that a strange-looking boy had hold of his sword-arm, and clung to it with such tenacity of grasp that he could not shake him of without a considerable struggle, in the course of which Tressilian had opportunity to rise and possess himself once more of his weapon.  Leicester again turned towards him with looks of unabated ferocity, and the combat would have recommenced with still more desperation on both sides, had not the boy clung to Lord Leicester’s knees, and in a shrill tone implored him to listen one moment ere he prosecuted this quarrel.

“Stand up, and let me go,” said Leicester, “or, by Heaven, I will pierce thee with my rapier!  What hast thou to do to bar my way to revenge?”

“Much—­much!” exclaimed the undaunted boy, “since my folly has been the cause of these bloody quarrels between you, and perchance of worse evils.  Oh, if you would ever again enjoy the peace of an innocent mind, if you hope again to sleep in peace and unhaunted by remorse, take so much leisure as to peruse this letter, and then do as you list.”

While he spoke in this eager and earnest manner, to which his singular features and voice gave a goblin-like effect, he held up to Leicester a packet, secured with a long tress of woman’s hair of a beautiful light-brown colour.  Enraged as he was, nay, almost blinded with fury to see his destined revenge so strangely frustrated, the Earl of Leicester could not resist this extraordinary supplicant.  He snatched the letter from his hand—­changed colour as