It was towards the evening of the day succeeding the events of the last chapter, when Denis caught sight from one of the windows of the King's gallery of Carrbroke walking in the gardens below, looking moody and strange, while all at once, as if conscious that he was being watched, he glanced up at the window and caught sight of Denis looking out ready to wave his hand. The English lad frowned, turned his back, and began walking away, while, stung to the heart by his reception, the blood flushed in the French lad's face, and drawing back from the window he ran along the gallery, to descend into the court, reach the garden, and make his way to that portion of the pleasaunce where he had seen his English friend. It was some time before he could find him, but at last he came suddenly upon him in a secluded portion nearly surrounded by a grey stone wall covered with growing plants. "Ah, there you are at last!" cried Denis. Carrbroke turned upon him angrily and clapped his hand to his sword. "You have come to fight?" he cried. "Well, it is death here to draw. Come out into the park, and I'll show you how I act towards a thief." "A thief!" flashed out Denis, imitating his companion's action. "This is cowardly from you. But no, I will not quarrel. You do not know." "Not know! Do I not know that in my confidence and belief in our French guest, whom my father had honoured, I foolishly trusted you with the secret of the King's private way--and for what? To help you and your friends to steal." "No," said Denis gravely; "you don't know that, for it is not true. I did tell Leoni--" "Ugh!" ejaculated Carrbroke. "That man's horrid eyes!" "Yes," said Denis, with a peculiar smile; "that man's horrid eyes-- thoughtlessly, I suppose, of the secret way, when I believed my duty called; perhaps you would have done the same. But I had nothing to do with the taking of the gem. Pah! I hated it all through, but as the King's esquire I had to fulfil my duty to my master. Believe me, I did not help to take the jewel. I felt that I would rather have died. Will you not believe me, Carrbroke?" And he held out his hand. "I feel I cannot," cried Carrbroke. "Does it take a king to forgive?" said Denis, with a smile. "To say those words, I forgive you, when there is nothing to forgive?" "Oh," cried Carrbroke hoarsely, and he looked sharply round to see if they were observed, before snatching and tightly grasping Denis's extended hands. A few minutes later the two lads were walking together arms on shoulders, in full sunshine of their young nature, that light seeming to be at the zenith, while the ruddy orange sun itself finishing its daily rounds was slowly sinking in the west. "Hah!" cried Denis. "I am glad we are friends again. I know it looked black against me, and--"