AND THE MAN. 188

 

a shower of sunny curls fell over his fair
young face and neck.

Soon the strange news went thrilling
from heart to heart, that the youthful
knight who had kissed the dust beneath the
sharp steel of De Montfort, was a maiden!
and none other than the beautiful, high-
spirited Agnes St. Bertrand, whose father
Sir Guy had killed, but a few months be-
fore, in a combat to which he had chal-
lenged him.

By order of the king the tournament
was suspended, and rampant knights and
ladies gay went back to their homes, in
soberer mood than when they came forth.

Alone in his castle, with the grim faces
of his ancestors looking down upon him
from the wall, Sir Guy paced to and fro
with hurried steps. The Angel of Mercy
was nearer to him than she had been for
years, and her whispers were distinctly
heard. Glory and fame were forgotten by
the knight—for self was forgotten. The
question—a strange question for him—