When I went in, the maiden was in strange woe, pacing up and down her chamber with pale face and heaving breast.
"Humphrey," said she, and her voice was dry and hoarse, "this is my fault, my fault! He will love me no more! I tempted him to stay when he should have been at his brother's side.

I, for my own comfort, made a woman of him, who should have helped make him a hero." "Nay," said I, "you are wrong, maiden.

Had he been there he could not have helped this.

It was in nature he should--" "Humphrey!" she exclaimed, in a voice which staggered me, "talk not like a fool.

I have forfeited his love.