"It was Wulf who bore me through.

Oh, I remember as much as that--how he lifted me onto the black horse and bade me to cling fast to mane and pommel.

Ay, and I remember the charge, and his cry of 'Contre D'Arcy, contre Mort!' and the flashing of swords about us, and after that--nothing." "Would that I had been there to help in that fight," said Sir Andrew D'Arcy, tossing his white hair.

"Oh, my children, it is hard to be sick and old.

A log am I--naught but a rotting log.
Still, had I only known--" "Father, father," said Rosamund, casting her white arm about his neck.