"A hit! a hit!" cried Edward Devereaux. As the rapier entered her right arm the weakness of her sex overcame the girl. She uttered a faint cry, and, for the first time in her life, fell in a dead faint. CHAPTER XV THE STRANGE WEAKNESS OF FRANCIS STAFFORD When Francis recovered consciousness she found Edward Devereaux bending over her with the utmost concern. "You live," he cried joyfully as she opened her eyes. "Now Heaven be praised! Methought that I had killed thee, Master Stafford." "Methought that it was to be a tilt a l'outrance," said Francis trying to rise. "Oh," she moaned sinking back as dizziness again assailed her. "I know not why but I am so weak. Bethink you that I am dying, Master Devereaux?" "I understand it not," returned the lad much perturbed. "The wound is naught. See! I slashed the sleeve of thy doublet and examined it. The cut should tingle and smart as all such do when green, but there is naught in it that should cause thy death. Art thou still no better?" "Nay;" said Francis feebly. "I am sure that my time is come. Good Edward, I beseech you, bring me a priest that he may shrive me." "There is no priest in all the castle walls, Francis Stafford. Know you not that priests and all such popery are forbid? I will call a chirurgeon." "Nay; do not so," said the girl. "What this weakness that has o'ertaken me may be, I know not, unless it be death. E'er I depart I would assoil my soul of all taint. Therefore incline thine ear, Master Devereaux, and receive my confession. It cuts me to the quick to make acknowledgment, but I have hated thee because thy skill with the bow was greater than mine." She paused for a moment. It was hard for Francis Stafford to confess fault even though she believed herself to be dying. Soon she continued: "It was thine arrow, Edward Devereaux, that slew the deer. I knew it at the time, but I liked not to own thy skill. Wilt thou pardon me?" "Gladly, gladly," said Devereaux. "Only I know not how thou couldst have seen the arrow. Thou wert not there." "I was, Edward," returned Francis. "I am in truth Francis Stafford, but I am the daughter instead of the son of my father." "Thou!--A girl!" The youth drew back in astonishment. "And I struck thee with my sword? O chivalry! I am undone! I am undone!" "Nay; take it not so to heart. The blame is not thine. How couldst thou know that I was other than I seemed?" "But I struck thee!" The boy seemed almost stunned. "Would Sidney have been guilty of such an act? Would the basest hind in the field have lifted a sword against a woman? Fair mistress," he cried in distress offering his sword to her, "do one last favor for Edward Devereaux. Bury that sword in the breast of him who is unworthy to bear it." "In the name of St. George, what means this?" cried Lord Shrope as he and Lord Hunsdon ran out from among the trees. "By my faith, my lord," cried the chamberlain bursting into a laugh. "If there has not been a duel!"