"To cheer thee in thy loneliness, my lord."
"How so?"
"Thou shalt reproach me for my youth and quarrel with me when thou wilt!"
"Am I of so ill humour, indeed?"
"Look within thyself, my lord."
Now here they rode a while in silence; but presently Beltane turned him again in the saddle and saw again only arm and shoulder. Quoth he:
"Fidelis, art a strange youth and a valiant—and yet, thy voice—thy voice hath betimes a—a something I love not—a note of softness that mindeth me of bitter days."
"Then heed it not, my lord; 'tis but that I grow a-weary, belike."
Here silence again, what time Beltane fell to frowning and Sir Fidelis, head a-slant, to watching him furtive-eyed, yet with lips that curved to wistful smile.
"Came you in sooth from—the Duchess Helen, Fidelis?"