Sir Richard went contented and singing to his bed.

For several glory-filled days thereafter it would be a walk with Rocelia in the morning through the forest glades; after which the young knight would ride northward to seek tidings of her father's condition. Times there were when it seemed impossible that he could recover. But, on the eighth day, Sir Richard found him wholly rational and well quit of his fever.

He would soon be upon his feet now, he told the young knight, in a weak whisper. After that they would set out for Wales, he said, gathering their forces along the way, and then march down on London. Sir Richard was in no mind to say him yea or nay; his thoughts being every one upon Rocelia. When Tyrrell learned of the young knight's daily ride to his sick-bed he rendered him the heartiest of thanks.

"'Tis indeed seldom, sire," he said, "that an humble servant is permitted the satisfaction of laboring for a grateful king."

Tyrrell was once again become the shrewd and wily politician.

Sir Richard remembered that all the way homeward (he called it home within his mind, it being the only place worthy of the name of which he knew), his heart was singing a merry lay within his breast, because of the good news he was carrying to Rocelia.

What a joyous evening it was they spent together, sitting at the table in the chimney-side with Dame Sutherland soundly sleeping upon the bench! Sir Richard insisted that Rocelia hum over song after song for him; the which she did, trilling them low and sweet. At length she struck upon the one for which he had been waiting; the song he had heard steal out upon that lonely night when he was engaged with Sir James and Zenas in the task of burying the hound.

When she had finished the last note Sir Richard told her of the weird circumstances surrounding his first acquaintance with it.

Thereupon, for the first time, the young knight made bold to tell her that he had ever since that night carried that same song within his memory​—​and a certain cutting of saffron velvet next his heart (forgetting to mention, however, that part of the time when he had worn it above his eye).

"Ah! sire," said Rocelia, "can it be that it is thou​—​—" and then she paused with lips all of a quiver, her fair head turned toward the glowing fire.