"It is granted," said Sir Mark, smiling faintly, "for he will never know." "Now let me say a word," said Gil, who had been uneasily looking on. "Fever may come on if he is excited. Take my advice, sir, lie back and go to sleep. Mace--no, here is Janet--fetch a pillow for this gentleman." The girl ran out, and returned bearing one of snowy hue, which Gil adjusted beneath the wounded man's head. "Now, sir, sleep for awhile, and you will be refreshed. Your arm is all right. I have dressed many a sword-cut in my time." "Thanks," said Sir Mark, faintly; "but some one will stay with me in the room?" He glanced at Mace. "Of course," said the founder. "Mace, my child." "Yes," said Gil, quietly, "go away, Mace; Janet will stay and watch by this gentleman's side." Mace glanced at him wonderingly, and Janet coloured with pleasure as, frowning slightly, Sir Mark closed his eyes, and the girl half drew the blind, while, headed by the founder, after removing all traces of the conflict, Gilbert Carr and Mace went softly out, and closed the door. "Why do you look at me like that?" said Mace, as they stood alone. "Gil, do you doubt me?" "Doubt you?" he said softly as he bent down and kissed her white forehead. "No, I could not, for you are not as other women are. I did not wish you, though, to be 'tendant to this spark from the Court, for such he seems to be. Nay, Mace, I've no jealousy in me. But there is your pike," he added, pointing to the fish, a great fellow four feet long, which lay on the red bricks at their feet. "Here is your father, and he'll tell us how the quarrel rose." "Quarrel! it was not worth calling a quarrel," cried the founder, shortly. "It seems that some meddlesome fool has been telling them in London of my works, and this gentleman has been sent down to inspect the place. He vexed me, and said something about the King, which made me rap out an oath. He drew: I drew." "And our visitor went down," said Gil Carr, smiling. "Well, Master Cobbe, there's not much harm done." "But I shall have to send over to the Moat, Gil, and tell Sir Thomas; he was here a piece back." "Nay," said Gil, "ill news flies apace, there is no need to hasten it. Leave it to the gentleman himself." "Perhaps you are right," returned the founder. "Of course he will not be fit to leave for a day or two. Mace, child, get the south chamber ready for our guest: let's try and make up for the ill that we have done." Gilbert Carr half-closed his eyes and stood silent till Mace left the open hall, where they were standing, to prepare the chamber for the wounded man, when he replied to the founder's remark:-- "It depends so upon the man." "Eh? How?" "Well, if you had a scratch or pin-thrust like that you would go and see to the grinding of your last batch of powder. If I had it, I should." "Well?" said the founder.