d or bought what I have
eaten. Indeed I have stolen nothing, nor would I, though I had found
gold strewed on the floor. Here is money for my meat, which I would have
left on the board when I had made my meal, and parted with prayers for
the provider." They refused her money with great earnestness. "I see you
are angry with me," said the timid Imogen; "but, sirs, if you kill me
for my fault, know that I should have died if I had not made it."

"Whither are you bound?" asked Bellarius, "and what is your name?"

"Fidele is my name," answered Imogen. "I have a kinsman, who is bound
for Italy; he embarked at Milford-Haven, to whom being going, almost
spent with hunger, I am fallen into this offence."

"Prithee, fair youth," said old Bellarius, "do not think us churls, nor
measure our good minds by this rude place we live in. You are well
encountered; it is almost night. You shall have better cheer before you
depart, and thanks to stay and eat it. Boys, bid him welcome."

The gentle youths, her brothers, then welcomed Imogen to their cave with
many kind expressions, saying they would love her (or, as they said,
_him_) as a brother; and they entered the cave, where (they having
killed venison when they were hunting) Imogen delighted them with her
neat housewifery, assisting them in preparing their supper; for though
it is not the custom now for young women of high birth to understand
cookery, it was then, and Imogen excelled in this useful art; and, as
her brothers prettily expressed it, Fidele cut their roots in
characters, and sauced their broth, as if Juno had been sick, and Fidele
were her dieter. "And then," said Polydore to his brother, "how
angel-like he sings!"

They also remarked to each other, that though Fidele smiled so sweetly,
yet so sad a melancholy did overcloud his lovely face, as if grief and
patience had together taken possession of him.

For these her gentle qualities (or perhaps it was their near
relationship, though they knew it not) Imogen (or, as the boys called
her, _Fidele_) became the doting-piece of her brothers, and she scarcely
less loved them, thinking that but for the memory of her dear Posthumus,
she could live and die in the cave with these wild forest youths; and
she gladly consented to stay with them, till she was enough rested from
the fatigue of travelling to pursue her way to Milford-Haven.

When the venison they had taken was all eaten and they were going out to
hunt for more, Fid