"I fear that he was slain by the archers, for they loved your
father, and they do not see these things with our eyes."

"It was a pity," said Nigel; "for it is clear that he was a good
knight and bore himself very bravely."

"Time was, when I was young, when commoners dared not have laid
their grimy hands upon such a man. Men of gentle blood and
coat-armor made war upon each other, and the others, spearmen or
archers, could scramble amongst themselves. But now all are of a
level, and only here and there one like yourself, fair son, who
reminds me of the men who are gone."

Nigel leaned forward and took her hands in his. "What I am you
have made me," said he.

"It is true, Nigel. I have indeed watched over you as the
gardener watches his most precious blossom, for in you alone are
all the hopes of our ancient house, and soon--very soon--you
will be alone."

"Nay, dear lady, say not that."

"I am very old, Nigel, and I feel the shadow closing in upon me.
My heart yearns to go, for all whom I have known and loved have
gone before me. And you--it will be a blessed day for you, since
I have held you back from that world into which your brave spirit
longs to plunge."