Then, as he held tight to the horse, panting, dizzy, sick todeath, he felt the hot blood gushing from his side, filling hisbody armor, and staining the ground upon which he stood. Still heheld tightly to the saddle-bow of the fallen man's horse until,through his glimmering sight, he saw the Marshal, the Lieutenant,and the attendants gather around him. He heard the Marshal askhim, in a voice that sounded faint and distant, if he wasdangerously wounded. He did not answer, and one of theattendants, leaping from his horse, opened the umbril of hishelmet, disclosing the dull, hollow eyes, the ashy, colorlesslips, and the waxy forehead, upon which stood great beads ofsweat.

"Water! water!" he cried, hoarsely; "give me to drink!" Then,quitting his hold upon the horse, he started blindly across thelists towards the gate of the barrier. A shadow that chilled hisheart seemed to fall upon him. "It is death," he muttered; thenhe stopped, then swayed for an instant, and then toppledheadlong, crashing as he fell.

CONCLUSION

But Myles was not dead. Those who had seen his face when theumbril of the helmet was raised, and then saw him fall as hetottered across the lists, had at first thought so. But hisfaintness was more from loss of blood and the sudden unstringingof nerve and sense from the intense furious strain of the lastfew moments of battle than from the vital nature of the wound.

Indeed, after Myles had been carried out of the lists and laidupon the ground in the shade between the barriers, Master Thomas,the Prince's barber-surgeon, having examined the wounds, declaredthat he might be even carried on a covered litter to ScotlandYard without serious danger. The Prince was extremely desirous ofhaving him under his care, and so the venture was tried. Myleswas carried to Scotland Yard, and perhaps was none the worsetherefore. The Prince, the Earl of Mackworth, and two or threeothers stood silently watching as the worthy shaver and leecher,assisted by his apprentice and Gascoyne, washed and bathed thegreat gaping wound in the side, and bound it with linen bandages.

Myles lay with closed eyelids, still, pallid, weak as a littlechild. Presently he opened his eyes and turned them, dull andlanguid, to the Prince.

"What hath happed my father, my Lord?" said he, in a faint,whispering voice.

"Thou hath saved his life and honor, Myles," the Prince answered.

"He is here now, and thy mother hath been sent for, and comethanon with the priest who was with them this morn."Myles dropped his eyelids again; his lips moved, but he made nosound, and then two bright tears trickled across his white cheek.

"He maketh a woman of me," the Prince muttered through his teeth,and then, swinging on his heel, he stood for a long time lookingout of the window into the garden beneath.

"May I see my father?" said Myles, presently, without opening hiseyes.

The Prince turned around and looked inquiringly at the surgeon.

The good man shook his head. "Not to-day," said he; "haplyto-morrow he may see him and his mother. The bleeding is but newstanched, and such matters as seeing his father and mother maymake the heart to swell, and so maybe the wound burst afresh andhe die. An he would hope to live, he must rest quiet untilto-morrow day."But though Myles's wound was not mortal, it was very serious. Thefever which followed lingered longer than common--perhaps becauseof the hot weather--and the days stretched to weeks, and theweeks to months, and still he lay there, nursed by his mother andGascoyne and Prior Edward, and now and again by Sir James Lee.