did. I ask no other court than this, no further mercy than my present
death.... John Nevil, for the sake of all that's dead and gone forever,
I pray you to keep me here no longer!"

He staggered as he spoke and put his hand to his head. "Mortimer,
Mortimer. Mortimer!" cried the Admiral. "Oh, my God, let this
dream pass!"

"Why, the matter needs not God," said Ferne, and laughed. "I am a
traitor, am I not? Then do to me what was done to Thomas Doughty. Only
hasten, for dead men wait to clutch me, and your looks do sear my
very brain."

Again he reeled. With a cry Robin-a-dale sprang towards him. Arden, too,
was there in time to support the sinking figure and guide it to the seat
he had pushed forward. Some one held wine to the lips.... Slow moments
passed, then Sir Mortimer's eyes unclosed. The boy hung over him, and he
smiled upon him, smiled with eye and lip. "Ay, ay, ay, Robin," he said,
"we'll to the court! And sweep away these rhymes, for the queen of all
my songs dwells there, and I shall look into her eyes--and that's better
than singing, lad! Ay, I'll wear the violet, and we'll ride beneath the
blossoms of the spring.... But there's a will-o'-the-wisp on the marsh
out yonder, and here they call it a lost soul--the soul of the
traitor Aguirre!"

"Master, master!" cried the boy.

Ferne laughed, touching the young cheek with long, supple fingers.
"Fame is a bubble, lad--let me tell thee that! But then it is
rainbow-hued and mirrors the sky,--so we'll ride for the bubble, lad!