"In that case, my lords and gentlemen," said the queen, glancing blandly

round the apartment, "he has witnessed nothing, and, therefore, merits

but slight punishment."

"Permit me, your majesty," said the duke, who had read the roll of

death, and who had been eyeing Sir Norman sharply for some time, "permit

me one moment! This is the very individual who slew the Earl of Ashley,

while his companion was doing for my Lord Craven. Sir Norman Kingsley,"

said his grace, turning, with awful impressiveness to that young person,

"do you know me?"

"Quite as well as I wish to," answered Sir Norman, with a cool and

rather contemptuous glance in his direction. "You look extremely like a

certain highwayman, with a most villainous countenance, I encountered a

few hours back, and whom I would have made mince most of if he lead not

been coward enough to fly. Probably you may be the name; you look fit

for that, or anything else."

"Cut him down!" "Dash his brains out!" "Run him through!" "Shoot him!"

were a few of the mild and pleasant insinuations that went off on every

side of him, like a fierce volley of pop-guns; and a score of bright

blades flashed blue and threatening on every side; while the prince

broke out into another shriek of laughter, that rang high over all.

Sir Norman drew his own sword, and stood on the defence, breathed one

thought to Leoline, gave himself up for lost; but before quite

doing so--to use a phrase not altogether as original as it might

be--"determined to sell his life as dearly as possible." Angry eyes and

fierce faces were on every hand, and his dreams of matrimony and Leoline

seemed about to terminate then and there, when luck came to his side, in

the shape of her most gracious majesty the queen. Springing to her feet,

she waved her sceptre, while her black eyes flashed as fiercely as the

best of them, and her voice rang out like a trumpet-tone.

"Sheathe your swords, my lords, and back every man of you! Not one hair

of his head shall fall without my permission; and the first who lays

hands on him until that consent is given, shall die, if I have to shoot

him myself! Sir Norman Kingsley, stand near, and fear not. At his peril,

let one of them touch you!"

Sir Norman bent on one knee, and raised the gracious hand to his lips.

At the fierce, ringing, imperious tone, all involuntarily fell back, as

if they were accustomed to obey it; and the prince, who seemed to-night

in an uncommonly facetious mood, laughed again, long and shrill.

"What are your majesty's commands?" asked the discomfited duke, rather

sulkily. "Is this insulting interloper to go free?"




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