"My liege," replied the other, "having arrived at Knaresborough on the day after the departure of your majesty, I hastened hither to inform your grace that France lies open to our arms, and our troops are eager to embark." In a few days Edward left Wark, leaving behind him a powerful garrison for the defence of the castle; but he had left it desolate to poor Madeline, for he had taken to accompany him, on his invasion of France, her betrothed husband and her brother. That brother whom she had met but three days before, she had not seen from childhood--nor was she certain that he lived--for he had been a soldier from his boyhood, and his life had been spent in the camp and in foreign wars; while she had been nurtured under the protection of the Countess of Salisbury. It was about seven years after the events we have alluded to had occurred, that Edward, covered with all the fame of a conqueror, if not the advantages of conquest, returned to England. During his victories and the din of war, however, he had not forgotten the beauty of his fair cousin, whose glances had bewildered him at Wark Castle; and now, when he returned, his admiration was renewed, and she appeared as the first favourite of his court. He had provided a royal banquet for the nobles and the knights who had distinguished themselves during the French wars. A thousand lights blazed in the noble hall--martial music pealed around--and hundreds of the brightest eyes in England looked love and delight. The fairest and the noblest in the land thronged the assembly. Jewels sparkled and studded the gorgeous apparel of the crowd. In the midst of the hall walked the gay and courtly monarch, with the fair Joan of Salisbury resting on his arm. They spoke of their first meeting at Wark, of the siege and the tournament, and again they whispered, and hands were pressed, and looks exchanged; and, while they walked together, a blue garter, decked with gold, pearls, and precious stones, and which, with a golden buckle, had fastened the sandal of the fair Joan round the best-turned ankle in the hall, became loose and entangled among her feet. The countess blushed; and the monarch, with the easy unembarrassment and politeness of a practised gallant, stooped to fasten the unfortunate riband. As the nobles beheld the sovereign kneel with the foot of the fair countess on his knee, a hardly suppressed smile ran through the assembly. But, observing the smile upon the face of his nobles, the monarch rose proudly, and, with the garter in his hand, exclaimed, "_Honi soit qui mal y pense_!"--"Shame be to him who thinks ill of it!" and buckling the garter round his left knee, he added, "Be this the Order of St George!--and the proudest monarchs and most valiant knights in Christendom shall be proud to be honoured with the emblem of thy garter, fair coz."