He crouched at her feet again, looking away across the lake, the garden trees, and the white cloud flecks, even to where the sun was, westward. "I must speak," he said in a low voice, "of Ulster, who is reputed to be my father. I don't think I have any bitter thoughts left, but I would not claim this man for my father. My mother was a gentlewoman, and is with the angels. That she was his wife so tarnishes her sacred memory that I would rather believe her mistaken in supposing the Duke of Ulster to be my father." Margaret was stroking the man's bowed head. "Sydney," she whispered, "I loved her. And Trooper Browne is here." "Browne is deaf," said my Lord. "Browne is deaf," echoed the man who loved him. "But Margaret hears," said our Lady; "and Margaret understands." "In Ulster's office,"--my Lord looked down at the rippled lake--"I overheard an exchange of messages between his Royal Highness and the Lord Protector. Of all spies and eavesdroppers I seem the most fortunate." "Oh, Sydney, you have news of Lyonesse?" "Madam, for three days past, Ulster has been in possession of the city." Our Lady uttered a low cry of fear. "He captured one of the great etheric liners--the _Golden Hind_. Brand had but one ship, the _Lion_, on guard above his cottage at the time his Ministers assembled. The _Lion_ was rammed by the _Golden Hind_, and fell right on the crown of the Tol Pedn cliffs, and the very rocks on which the cottage stood were thrown down the wall into the sea." "I cannot bear it, Sydney! I cannot bear it!" My Lord looked up, his eyes glittering with tears. "You are a woman, and women are braver than men. You are the Queen, and dying England dies with majesty. The lightnings of God shall find no cowardice, and at the Last Judgment England shall not flinch." "I forgot myself," said Margaret very humbly, "Go on--I will be quiet." "I must go on,"--my Lord wiped the sweat from his forehead. "When Brand recaptured Lyonesse last Sunday, Ulster's troops took refuge near Marazion, and there starved. On Friday morning, under orders from the _Golden Hind_ they entered the city again, and for these two days they have murdered, plundered, and burned while they searched for Brand. Lyonesse is a ruin, but the master has not been found. It is known that he is alive, signals from his aerograph have been intercepted; but the search for his hiding-place has failed, and Ulster is coming back to-day." The Queen was praying. "In the great purposes of God he lives." My Lord lifted his eyes towards the declining sun. "There is hope, and I know that God will not let England go from serving Him. The fire of our national life dies down to ashes until the one spark left is hidden courage, ready to flame again when the time comes." Browne turned his face away, for our Lady sobbed. "Ulster is coming," said my Lord presently. "He has stolen the powers of Lyonesse, and for the time he is master--for the time."