man hath never yet sailed, and I see a great land under new stars and a stranger sky, and still the land is England. Where have her children not gone? What have they not done? Her banner is planted on ice. Her banner is scorched in the sun. She lies athwart the lands, and her shadow is over the seas. Bertrand, Bertrand! we are undone, for the buds of her bud are even as our choicest flower!' Her voice rose into a wild cry, and throwing up her arms she sank back white and nerveless into the deep oaken chair.
'It is over,' said Du Guesclin moodily, as he raised her drooping head with his strong brown hand. 'Wine for the lady, squire! The blessed hour of sight hath passed.'
CHAPTER XXX
HOW THE BRUSHWOOD MEN CAME TO THE CHÂTEAU OF VILLEFRANCHE
It was late ere Alleyne Edricson, having carried Sir Nigel the goblet of spiced wine which it was his custom to drink after the curling of his hair, was able at last to seek his chamber. It was a stone-flagged room upon the second floor, with a bed in a recess for him, and two smaller pallets on the other side, on which Aylward and Hordle John were already snoring. Alleyne had knelt down to his evening orisons, when there came a tap at his door, and Ford entered with a small lamp in his hand. His face was deadly pale, and his hand shook until the shadows flickered up and down the wall.
'What is it, Ford?' cried Alleyne, springing to his feet.
'I can scarce tell you,' said he, sitting down on the side of the couch, and resting his chin upon his hand. 'I know not what to say or what to think.'
'Has aught befallen you, then?'
'Yes, or I have been slave to my own fancy. I tell you
