."

"That you do not fear me?"

"It is not a habit of mine."

"Why, then, have you avoided me these three days past?"

Despite himself Crispin felt his breath quickening--quickening with
a pleasure that he sought not to account for--at the thought that she
should have marked his absence from her side.

"Because perhaps if I did not," he answered slowly, "you might come to
avoid me. I am a proud man, Mistress Cynthia."

"Satan, sir, was proud, but his pride led him to perdition."

"So indeed may mine," he answered readily, "since it leads me from you."

"Nay, sir," she laughed, "you go from me willingly enough."

"Not willingly, Cynthia. Oh, not willingly," he began. Then of a sudden
he checked his tongue, and asked himself what he was saying. With a
half-laugh and a courtier manner, he continued, "Of two evils, madam, we
must choose the lesser one."

"Madam," she echoed, disregarding all else that he had said. "It is an
ugly word, and but a moment back you called me Cynthia."

"Twas a liberty that methought my grey hairs warranted, and for which
you should have reproved me."

"You have not grey hairs enough to warrant it, Sir Crispin," she
answered archly. "But what if even so I account it no liberty?"

The heavy lids were lifted from her eyes, and as their glance, frank and
kindly, met his, he trembled. Then, with a polite smile, he bowed.

"I thank you for the honour."

For a moment she looked at him in a puzzled way, then moved past him,
and as he stood, stiffly erect, watching her graceful figure, he thought
that she was about to leave him, and was glad of it. But ere she had
taken half a dozen steps:

"Sir Crispin," said she, looking back at him over her shoulder, "I am
walking to the cliffs."

Never was a man more plainly invited to become an escort; but he ignored
it. A sad smile crept into his harsh face.

"I shall tell Kenneth if I see him," said he.

At that she frowned.

"But I do not want him," she protested. "Sooner would I go alone."

"Why, then, madam, I'll tell nobody."

Was ever man so dull? she asked herself.

"There is a fine view from the cliffs," said she.

"I have always thought so," he agreed.

She inclined to call him a fool; yet she restrained herself. She had an
impulse to go her way without him; but, then, she desired his company,
and Cynthia was unused to having her desires frustrated. So finding him
impervious to suggestion:

"Will you not come with me?" she