had seen
her riding out over the hills with her father and Sir Lancelot, thought
he had never beheld so lovely a maiden; and he was right, for in all
England there were few to compare with Anne of Bletso. She had seen him
too, and had observed how far superior he was in appearance to other
rustic swains, for the shepherd's frock of homely grey could not conceal
the graces of his person, which also attracted the notice of the worthy
knight, her father, who, on one occasion, said to Sir Lancelot--

"That is a well-favoured youth of yours; I have seen a face like his
before, but I cannot bethink me where or when, yet it is no common face
either."

"He is the son of my chief shepherd," replied Sir Lancelot; "he was
always a good-looking lad, and is an excellent servant."

Then, anxious to divert Sir John's attention from Henry, whose handsome
features he feared might remind the knight of the late Lord Clifford,
whom his son strongly resembled, he began to talk of other things. But
Henry did not forget the sweet face of the young lady, or the beautiful
eyes he had seen fixed intently upon him, eyes as bright as the stars he
was so fond of gazing upon, and he could not help feeling sad to think
the fates had placed him in a sphere so much beneath her.

It chanced one day as he watched his flocks feeding on the mountains, he
saw the damsel on her white palfrey, attended by a single page, riding
direct towards the spot where he was reclining in profound meditation,
beneath the spreading branches of a luxuriant oak, that shielded him
from the noonday sun. He rose at her approach, and took off his cap,
displaying a rich profusion of nut-brown hair as he gracefully made his
obeisance, supposing she would pass by with merely a slight notice,
therefore he blushed with surprise and pleasure when she stopped her
horse, and said in the sweetest tone imaginable--

"Good day, shepherd Henry; I come to ask a service of you."

"If I can render you service, lady, you may command me, even to the
peril of my life."

"Nay, I would not have you peril your life for my behoof," she replied,
with a smile.

"In riding over the hills this morning, I have lost a golden clasp, with
three diamonds, that fastened my gorget, and I would ask you, should you
meet with such a bauble in your ramblings, to carry it to the Lady
Margaret of Threlkeld, who will see that it is restored to me."

"Lady I will not fail to do your bidding. Few persons t