“Sir,” said Armstrong to the officer, “I thank you for your guidance; and you, my lord,” to De Courcy, “for your kind and prompt command with respect to the lady. She has had a long and tiring journey through a dangerous country, under continual fear of arrest, and so it is not to be wondered that a woman should succumb to the strain at the last.” “Our countries have ever been friends and allies,” said De Courcy with the utmost amiability, “and I trust that we, meeting on what is to each of us foreign soil, may be animated by a like regard.” “I thank you, my lord, and, speaking for myself, admit that I have always looked with affection upon France and her brave and gallant sons.” Again De Courcy graciously inclined his head, and replied: “And believe me, sir, if you were acquainted with her daughters, your affection for the fair land would not be diminished. I regret that I have never set foot in Scotland, but hope some day that such will be my privilege. The officer who has left us did not give me your name.” “I am William Armstrong, somewhat known on the Border, a Scottish gentleman, and a loyal subject of his Majesty the King.” “Then you are very welcome in Oxford, and I am sure his Majesty wishes there were more like you in the environs thereof and the regions beyond. It is now too late to see the King to-day, and probably you are not loath to meet a night’s rest after a hard day’s riding. I will arrange a conference for you with his Majesty as soon as possible.” “Thank you. If I may hint that every day is of value, you will perhaps urge upon the King the danger of delay.” “I shall not fail to do so. Good-night.” For the first time in his life Armstrong left his horse to the care of others and entered the inn to inquire after the welfare of the lady who absorbed his thoughts. She sent word that she was quite recovered, but would see no one until the morrow. With this he was fain to be content, and he wandered about the town in the gathering dusk, hoping to do her a service by discovering the whereabouts of Lord Rudby’s son, to whom he supposed she carried some message from her brother. He learned that this young man, who was a captain in the King’s army, had been sent, it was supposed, to London, but nothing had been heard of him for a month or more, and whether he was prisoner or not, none could say. This intelligence depressed Armstrong, who feared that the girl had taken her long journey for nothing, and that the failing to find the one she sought might entail serious consequences upon her brother or herself, for each in turn had manifested great concern touching the mission she had undertaken.