“The insult is sufficient. Draw, and have done!” the lad said quietly. His sword gleamed in the restive reflections of that unseen fire behind Kennaston. “Na, na! but, my most expeditious cockerel, surely this place is a thought too public? Now yonder is a noble courtyard. Oh, ay, favored by to-night’s moon, we may settle our matter without any hindrance or intolerable scandal. So, I will call my host, that we may have the key. Yet, upon my gentility, Master Skirlaw, I greatly fear I shall be forced to kill you. Therefore I cry you mercy, sir, but is there no business on your mind which you would not willingly leave undischarged? Save you, friend, but we are all mortal. Hah, to a lady whom I need not name, it is an affair of considerable import what disposition a bold man might make of this ring—” Leering, Kennaston touched the great signet-ring on the lad’s thumb; and forthwith the universe seemed to fold about him, just as a hand closes. In this brief moment of inexplicable yearning and self-loathing he comprehended that the boy’s face was the face of Ettarre. And Kennaston, awake, was pleading, with meaningless words: “Valentia! forgive me, Valentia!...” * * * * * And that was all. This dream remained an enigma. Kennaston could never know what events had preceded this equivocal instant, or how Ettarre came to be disguised as a man, or what were their relations in this dream, nor, above all, why he should have awakened crying upon the name of Valentia. It was simply a law that always when he was about to touch Ettarre—even unconsciously—everything must vanish; and through the workings of that law this dream, with many others, came to be just a treasured moment of unexplainable but poignant emotion. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ III Horvendile to Ettarre: At Whitehall TO Kennaston the Lord Protector was saying, with grave unction: “You will, I doubt not, fittingly express to our friends in Virginia, Master Major, those hearty sentiments which I have in the way of gratefulness, in that I have received the honor and safeguard of their approbation; for all which I humbly thank them. To our unfriends in that colony we will let action speak when I shall have completed God’s work in Ireland.” “Yet the Burgesses, sir, are mostly ill-affected; and Berkeley, to grant him justice, does not lack bravery—” “With Heaven’s help, Master Major, I have of late dealt with a king who did not lack bravery. Nay, depend upon it, I shall some day grant William Berkeley utter justice—such justice as I gave his master, that proud curled man, Charles Stuart.” Then the Lord Protector’s face was changed, and his harsh countenance became a little troubled. “Yes, I shall do all this, with Heaven’s help, I think. But in good faith, I grow old, Master Major. I move in a mist, and my deeds are strange to me....”