Ralph Lisle had now reached the happiest hour of his life, and, in common with all humanity, he discovered that no happiness existed without alloy.

As he rode round the lists, somewhat embarrassed at the shouts of applause with which he was greeted, the openly expressed opinions of the more matronly part of the fair sex, and the less public, but scarcely veiled admiration of the younger members of that all-powerful half of humanity, Bowerman, who rode next to him, kept saying, in a tone of intense scorn and hatred,--

"Certes, Lisle, you are an impudent braggart, an you take all this balderdash to yourself. You know full well you'd never have gotten off as you did had you not been shamefully favoured."

Ralph felt very angry. He was deeply mortified, for he could not help knowing that there was great truth in the assertion, the power and address of the unknown knight having been clearly proved in his joust with Master Meaux.

"You can't say it was by favour I unhorsed the Sire de la Roche Guemené."

"Ay, but I can, and do. 'Twas that minx of a cousin of yours who brought that about."

"Bowerman," said Ralph, his face flushing up, and his mouth working, "if you dare to call my cousin a minx, I'll beat you to a jelly."

"Marry, will you? Forsooth, this braggart is growing apace! I shall call whom I like what name I like; and if you think you are going to stop me, you had better try. So there, master upstart!" and Bowerman snapped his fingers in Ralph's face in utter contempt and malignant defiance.

As they were exchanging these hasty words, they were passing, on their way out of the lists, the little girl and her rough attendant. This latter eyed Bowerman significantly, and seeing that he did not notice him, for both Ralph and Bowerman were too heated with their words to take notice of anyone in the crowd, the man nudged the leg of the latter as he passed, and so drew his attention to him.

As soon as Bowerman saw who it was, he changed colour.

"Hullo, my Trojan, what do you want?" he said, assuming a careless air.

"Take this, 'twill tell its own tale," said the man, handing Bowerman a dirty scrap of paper.

Meanwhile Ralph had noticed the little girl, and seeing how pleased she seemed, he reined up his horse and spoke to her.

"Well, little maid, and where have you left your old father?"

An amused expression passed over the child's face, and her eyes shone with mischief, as she replied,--

"Ah, poor old man! He's so infirm, think you, as to be scarce able to walk? Well, 'twas very kind of you to lend us your pony, and you will never be sorry for it."

"Where do you live?" asked Ralph, surprised at her voice, and trying to remember where he had heard it.

"Why, you know you saw me at Appuldurcombe Priory."

"Marry, so I did, but I was busy with my Lord Captain then."

"Ay, and with some one else, too. No marvel you had no eyes for me."

This was a remark Ralph did not appreciate.

"And what are you doing there?"

"I'm being brought up by the nuns. But, do you know, Sister Agnes--'twas she who brought out the hippocras--has been ill ever since you came? She did nothing but sigh and weep, and weep and sigh, from the time she got in till now. The only thing that comforts her is when I am with her, and I ought never to have left her to-day, only father sent orders for me to come here."

"Why, your poor old father sending orders to the Prioress of Appuldurcombe! that is a likely tale," said Ralph, smiling incredulously.

"And who do you think my father is?"

"Why, that poor old beggar whom I put on my pony, sure enough."

The girl broke out into a merry laugh.

"Like enough, like enough," she said; and then went on in a different tone,--"So you found the Hermit of St Catherine's, did you? 'Twas a rare foggy night, wasn't it?"

"Why, what do you know about that?" cried Ralph, in astonishment.

But again the only answer was a merry, mischievous laugh, and before Ralph, who did not like being mystified, could ask her any more questions, the rough man who was taking care of her, having finished his conversation with Bowerman, came up, and led her away, giving Ralph a peculiar look as he passed.

The crowd had now become a disorganised mob. The lists were invaded, and children were picking up the broken splinters of the gaily-painted lances, or gazing in awe at the fine ladies who were being escorted from the pavilion. The great centre of attraction was the tent of the knights-challengers. Every one hoped to obtain a glimpse of the mysterious knight as he came out, but in this they were disappointed; no one came out except those who were well known, and at last, after waiting in hopeful curiosity for some time, the people gave it up, and went off in search of other amusements.

"Certes, Master Ralph," said Dicky Cheke, who met that successful youth as he was dismounting in the courtyard, amid the plaudits of the garrison and the congratulations of the visitors, who were standing about waiting for the evening festivities, which would shortly begin, preluded by a state banquet in the Captain's hall,--"certes, Master Ralph, you are in luck's way; but why that should make a little wench in the crowd pinch my arm, I can't tell. 'Twas the oddest thing! The little quean asked me if I was your friend. I stared at her, and said,--'Ay, marry; but I didn't see that gave her a right to pinch my arm.' Whereupon she laughed. 'What are you laughing for?' said I. 'Because you're such a merry little boy,' said she. 'Grammercy, little girl,' said I. Whereupon she began to laugh more than ever; and I had to say I'd send the leech from the castle to give her something to stop her going on like that before she made an end of it; and when she did, she finished up with,--'Oh, do let me tell you what I wanted to, before I die of laughing at such a merry little tom-tit.' There! I solemnly declare she called me a tom-tit, though, certes, I doubt if you'd credit it."

"Well, what's all this about? when are you coming to the point?" said Ralph.

"Marry! that is just what I said to the little wench, and she did nothing but laugh. At last she quieted down, and said, if I was your friend, I was to be sure and look after you and Bowerman. She said she did not like that boy--fancy Bowerman's joy! I'll tell him she called him a boy; and there I agreed with her. She seemed to think Bowerman meant to do you a mischief, and i'faith I shouldn't marvel. 'Twas he who had something to do with laming Black Tom, I'll wager; and he's as mad with rage and spite against you as 'tis possible to be without choking. I only wish he would! So now, young man, I shall look after you. Don't be down-hearted; I am near you; I'll take care of you. But who'd have thought it! She called me a tom-tit! Dicky Cheke a tom-tit! Richard Cheke, page-in-waiting to the high and mighty Captain of the Wight, tom-tit! Good lack! good lack!"

"Well, 'tis a comfort you'll take care of me, in sooth," said Ralph, as he went up the narrow winding stairs to his room, which he shared with Dicky, and which was next that of Bowerman, at the top of a turret overlooking the courtyard.

Humphrey followed his young master, and unbuckled his armour.

"Marry! Master Ralph, what'll they say down Thruxton way?"

"'Tis a piece of luck, Humphrey, and I can't claim any credit in the tilt. But why do you think that unknown knight showed me such favour?"

"Beshrew me if I know; but 'tis clear enough he did let you off. Well, no matter! I'faith, all the better, say I. You'll be sure to have the ruby ring: I heard every one say so."

"Do you think I shall have the prize?" cried Ralph, astonished and delighted.

"Ay, marry, do I! That rusty one won't have it, albeit he deserves it. They always give it to a young one like you, if they can in reason."

"Well, I almost wish I may not get it," said Ralph thoughtfully.

"And why, Master Ralph?"

"Because of course I don't deserve it, and 'twill make Bowerman more jealous of me than ever, and he will have cause, certes, for saying I have been favoured."

"Oh, never fear him! You take my advice, and give him a good trouncing. You can easily do it, and he'd be all the better for it. Not but what he's a spiteful lad; and 'tisn't only me as thinks he knows more about Black Tom going lame than he'd like any one to say."

"Have you heard who that knight was?"

"Ay, there's a many as knows. Some says 'tis Sir Robert Clifford, him as is a known Yorkist, and who's been looked for for some time past. Others say 'tis my Lord Lovell, who's never been heard of since Stoke field. There's some as say even 'tis King Richard himself, got well of the wounds as laid him low at Bosworth. I'faith, there's no end to the tales they all swear is the truth."

"And what do you think, Humphrey?"

"Well, I doesn't just know what to think; but I'se sure he be a Yorkist, because of his collar. But then I can't think why the Captain didn't have him placed in safe keeping. 'Twill look ugly at Court, I'm thinking, and the King won't be best pleased when he hears of it."

By this time Ralph had stripped off all his armour, and was dressing himself in his gay new suit, which set off his well-knit, graceful figure to perfection. As he finished, and Humphrey was admiring his young master, the step of somebody ascending the narrow stairs could be heard, and soon afterwards Bowerman entered his room and shut his door.

When Ralph came into the hall he was almost dazzled by the brilliancy of the scene. He found himself the centre of attraction, and it would have been strange if his head had not been a little turned by the attentions he receiv............