and whoever thou mayest be, let not one in this camp, from the noble Earl of Hereford himself to the lowest soldier, suspect thou art other than thou seemest—­a faithful page.  The rage of Edward is deadly, and all who bear the name of Bruce, be it male or female, will suffer from that wrath.  Tell this to thy lord.  I ask not his confidence nor thine, nay, I would refuse it were it offered—­I would know no more than my own thoughts, but I honor him, aye, and from my very heart I honor thee!  Hush! not a word in answer; my speech is rude, but my heart is true; and now a few steps more and we are there,” and without waiting for reply he turned suddenly, and the page found himself in the very centre of the camp, near the entrance of a small pavilion, before which two sentinels were stationed, fully armed, and pacing up and down their stated posts; the pennon of Hereford floated from the centre staff, above the drapery, marking the tent and all its appurtenances peculiarly the earl’s.  The watchword was exchanged, and the sentinels lowered their arms on recognizing one of their leaders.

“Let this boy have egress and ingress from and to this tent, unquestioned and unmolested,” he said; “he has the Earl of Hereford’s permission, nay, commands, to wait on Sir Nigel Bruce.  His business lieth principally with him; but if he hath need to quit his side, he is to pass free.  Report this to your comrades.”  The soldiers bowed in respectful acquiescence.  “For thee, young man, this toy will give thee free passage where thou listeth, none shall molest thee; and now, farewell—­God speed thee.”  He unclasped a ruby brooch, curiously set in antique gold, from his collar, and placed it in the boy’s hand.

“Dost thou not enter?” asked the page, in a voice that quivered, and the light of the torches falling full on his face disclosed to Lancaster a look of such voiceless gratitude, it haunted him for many a long day.

“No,” he said, half smiling, and in a lower voice; “hast thou forgotten thy cause was to be pleaded without witness?  I have not, if thou hast.  I will see thy noble master ere he depart, not now; thou wilt, I trust me, take him better comfort than I could.”

He lifted the hangings as he spoke, and the boy passed in, his heart beating well-nigh to suffocation as he did so.  It was in a small compartment leading to the principal chamber of the tent he found himself at first, and Sir Nigel was not there.  With a fleet, yet noiseless movement, he drew aside the massive curtain, let it fall again behind him, and stood unperceived in the presence of him he sought.