Kennedy, with the play of blades, was like a child in the hands of the young knight. There were scarce above a half dozen passes before his sword went humming through the window, taking glass and sash with it to the ground. Sir Richard turned upon hearing a sharp cry in the direction of the stair door. Rocelia, all white and trembling was framed within its casements. Thinking alone of her, he started for the steps. "Sire," Lord Kennedy called to him. The young knight wheeled. With tunic split from chin to skirt, Bishop Kennedy was standing in the middle of the floor; grave-faced, ashen, but wonderfully calm. "I have turned traitorous sword against my king," he said. "Thou owest me a death, sire." "Then I'll remain ever in thy debt," Sir Richard made answer. "'Twas the fault of my unruly tongue. I ask thy forgiveness, Lord Kennedy. And now, come, Rocelia," he said to the frightened maiden, "we'll have earned our walk." Thereupon he went over to where she was standing, placed her yielding arm within his and together they walked through the outer door. "One word with thee, sire," Lord Kennedy called after them when they had started for the forest. "Thou meanest fair by that maiden?" he said, when Sir Richard came back to the door. "She is the bonniest in all Scotland, sire," he added, with a great sincerity of tone. "Thou hast spoken truth, Lord Kennedy," the young knight answered, reaching out his hand. "And, sir, by the cross of this, my sword, I would liefer have her than any proffered kingdom atop of earth." "And thou wouldst certes be the gainer," Kennedy answered. "God wot how this may end, sire," he added, shaking his head. Then, grasping Sir Richard's hand for a moment, he turned sadly back into the tavern room. Before setting out upon their walk the young knight summoned Harold to him and laid injunction upon him to trap his stallion, the jennet, and a third palfrey for a lady. "It will be for a long journey, mayhap. Lead them so quickly as may be," he told him, "along the road where I first came upon you, and await there my coming." A little corner within the wood there was which Rocelia and Sir Richard had come to look upon as all their own. Thither in silence they took their way. Upon reaching there she sat down upon a log, leaning her back against a tree; whilst the young knight disposed himself upon the moss at her feet.