was love and truth drove us to this; and God will bless this mating
as the birds mate, even as He gives honour to Gabord who was born
upon a truss of hay."

"Poom!" said Gabord, puffing out his cheeks, and smiling on her
with a look half sour, and yet with a doglike fondness, "Gabord's
mouth is shut till 's head is off, and then to tell the tale to
Twelve Apostles!"

Through his wayward, illusive speech we found his meaning. He
would keep faith with us, and be best proof of this marriage, at
risk of his head even.

As we spoke, the chaplain was writing in the blank fore-pages of
the Prayer Book. Presently he said to me, handing me the pen, which
he had picked from a table, "Inscribe your names here. It is a
rough record of the ceremony, but it will suffice before all men,
when to-morrow I have given Mistress Moray another record."

We wrote our names, and then the pen was handed to Gabord. He took
it, and at last, with many flourishes and ahos, and by dint of
puffings and rolling eyes, he wrote his name so large that it filled
as much space as the other names and all the writing, and was indeed
like a huge indorsement across the record.

When this was done, Alixe held out her hand to him. "Will you kiss
me, Gabord?" she said.

The great soldier was all taken back. He flushed like a schoolboy,
yet a big humour and pride looked out of his eyes.