that held the weapon.  It was a sharp struggle, for the fellow was a trained soldier in the full strength of manhood, and Humfrey was a youth of twenty-three, and unarmed.  They went down together, rolling on the ground before Mary’s chair; but in another moment Humfrey was the uppermost.  He had his knee on the fellow’s chest, and held aloft, though in a bleeding hand, the dagger wrenched from him.  The victory had been won in a few seconds, before the two men, whom his whistle had brought, had time to rush forward.  They were ready now to throw themselves on the assailant.  “Hold!” cried Humfrey, speaking for the first time.  “Hurt him not!  Hold him fast till I have him to Sir Amias!”

Each had an arm of the fallen man, and Humfrey rose to meet the eyes of the Queen sparkling, as she cried, “Bravely, bravely done, sir!  We thank you.  Though it be but the poor remnant of a worthless life that you have saved, we thank you.  The sight of your manhood has gladdened us.”

Humfrey bowed low, and at the same time there was a cry among the ladies that he was bleeding.  It was only his hand, as he showed them.  The dagger had been drawn across the palm before he could capture it.  The kerchiefs were instantly brought forward to bind it up, Dr. Bourgoin saying that it ought to have Master Gorion’s attention.

“I may not wait for that, sir,” said Humfrey.  “I must carry this villain at once to Sir Amias and report on the affair.”

“Nay, but you will come again to be tended,” said the Queen, while Dr. Bourgoin fastened the knot of the temporary bandage.  “Ah! and is it Humfrey Talbot to whom I owe my life?  There is one who will thank thee for it more than even I. But come back.  Gorion must treat that hand, and then you will tell me what you have heard of her.”

“Naught, alas, madam,” said Humfrey with an expressive shake of the head, but ere he turned away Mary extended her hand to him, and as he bent his knee to kiss it she laid the other kindly on his dark curled head and said, “God bless thee, brave youth.”

She was escorted to the door nearest to her apartments, and as she sank back on her day bed she could not help murmuring to Mary Seaton, “A brave laddie.  Would that he had one drop of princely blood.”

“The Talbot blood is not amiss,” said the lady.

“True; and were it but mine own Scottish royalty that were in question I should see naught amiss, but with this English right that hath been the bane of us all, what can their love bring the poor children save woe?”

Meantime Humfrey was conducting his prisoner to Sir Amias Paulett.  The man was a bronzed, tough-looking ruffian, with an air of having seen service, and a certain foreign touch in his accent.  He glanced somewhat contemptuously at his captor, and said; “Neatly done, sir; I marvel if you’ll get any thanks.”

“What mean you?” said Humfrey sharply, but the fellow only shrugged his shoulders.  The whole affair had been so noiseless, that Humfrey brought the first intelligence when he was admitted to the sick chamber, where Sir Amias sat in a large chair by the fire.  He had left his prisoner guarded by two men at the door.  “How now!  What is it?” cried Paulett at first sight of his bandaged hand.  “Is she safe?”