unted who galloped furiously towards us down the avenue. When almost
upon us she swung her powerful beast aside and, checking him with
strong wrist, sat looking down at me from the shade of her plumed hat.

"What is this?" she demanded, and her eyes swept over me grey and wide
and fearless. "Who--who are you?"

Now at the sound of her voice so rich and wonder-sweet, I felt
strangely abashed and, finding no word, turned from her to scowl down
at the man I had pinned beneath my broken shoe.

"Who are you?" she questioned again. "Speak!"

"A rogue!" says I, keeping my head averted. "A creeper o' hedges!"

"Ah--is't you?" said she in softer tone. "I saw you for a moment by
lightning-flash near the gibbet. You are my man o' the woods, and,
sir, I owe you much--very much--indeed, sir, if--"

"I am no 'sir'!" quoth I shortly.

"Gregory," says she, looking down on the fellow 'neath my foot.
"Gregory, get up!"

"Gregory," says I, "stir not!"

"Sir, would you hurt my servant?" says she, knitting her slender black
brows.

"I' faith!" I nodded. "The uncivil rogue forced me to burst open the
gate."

"And why are you here? Who are you? What is your name?" cried she a
little breathlessly, and I wondered at the fixed intensity of her gaze.

"Gregory," says I, taking my foot from his middle but threatening him
with my staff, "I am come for no traffic with maids, so rise up and
bring me to your master."

"Nay," groans the fellow, turning up his eyes, "'tis thing impossible,
here's only my lady--"

"And I seek your master--is he within?"

"Nay," says Gregory, flinching beneath my staff, "as my lady shall tell
'ee--he is not here."

"Ha!" quoth I. "That will I see for myself." But as I turned to
stride up the avenue, my lady wheeled her horse, barring my way.

"Whither go you?" she demanded, her eyes holding mine.

"To the house for Sir Richard. I have been at some small pains to gain
speech with him."

"To what end?"

"Why truly," I answered, leaning upon my staff and viewing her eye to
eye, "'tis a matter of vital moment, aye--in a manner of speaking--'tis
a matter of life and death betwixt us." Now as I stood thus I could
not but be conscious of her glowing, vigorous beauty, her body's noble
shape and the easy grace of her as she sat her fretting horse, swaying
to his every movement. And to me, in my rags, she seemed no woman but
a goddess rather, proud, immaculate and very far removed; and yet th