Her heart went out to the Duke's Daughter as it had never gone out to any
of her sex since her mother's death, and she showed her admiration in her
glance. The other saw it and smiled, slipping a hand in hers for a
moment; and then a look, half-debating, half-triumphant, came into her
face as her eyes followed Leicester down the green stretches of the
tilting-yard.

The trumpet sounded, the people broke out in shouts of delight, the
tilting began. For an hour the handsome joust went on, the Earl of
Oxford, Charles Howard, Sir Henry Lee, Sir Christopher Hatton, and
Leicester challenging, and so even was the combat that victory seemed to
settle in the plumes of neither, though Leicester of them all showed not
the greatest skill, while in some regards greatest grace and deportment.
Suddenly there rode into the lists, whence, no one seemed to know, so
intent had the public gaze been fixed, so quickly had he come, a mounted
figure all in white, and at the moment when Sir Henry Lee had cried aloud
his challenge for the last time. Silence fell as the bright figure
cantered down the list, lifted the gauge, and sat still upon his black
steed. Consternation fell. None among the people or the Knights Tilters
knew who the invader was, and Leicester called upon the Masters of the
Ceremonies to demand his name and quality. The white horseman made no
reply, but sat unmoved, while noise and turmoil suddenly sprang up around
him.

Presently the voice of the Queen was heard clearly ringing through the
lists. "His quality hath evidence. Set on."

The Duke's Daughter laughed, and whispered mischievously in Angele's ear.

The gentlemen of England fared ill that day in the sight of all the