rd a little; and in
this fashion we came at last to the hedge-gap, with the Lady Mirdath
very hushed; but yet walking anigh to me, as that she had some secret
pleasure of my nearness. And I led her through the gap, and so homeward
to the Hall; and there bid her good-night at a side door that she held
the key of. And, truly, she bid me good-night in an utter quiet voice;
and was almost as that she had no haste to be gone from me that night.

Yet, when I met her on the morrow, she was full of a constant impudence
to me; so that, having her alone to myself, when the dusk was come, I
asked her why she would never be done of her waywardness; because that I
ached to have companionship of her; and, instead, she denied my need.
And, at that, she was at once very gentle; and full of a sweet and
winsome understanding; and surely knew that I wished to be rested; for
she brought out her harp, and played me dear olden melodies of our
childhood-days all that evening; and so had my love for her the more
intent and glad. And she saw me that night to the hedge-gap, having her
three great boar-hounds with her, to company her home again. But,
indeed, I followed her afterwards, very silent, until I saw her safe
into the Hall; for I would not have her alone in the night; though she
believed that I was then far away on the country road. And as she walked
with her dogs, one or another would run back to me, to nose against me
friendly-wise; but I sent them off again very quiet; and she had no
knowledge of aught; for she to go singing a love-song quietly all the
way home. But whether she loved me, I could not tell; though she had a
nice affection for me.

Now, on the following evening, I went somewhat early to the gap; and lo!
who should be standing in the gap, talking to the Lady Mirdath; but a
very clever-drest man, that had a look of the Court about him; and he,
when I approached, made no way for me through the gap; but stood firm,
and eyed me very insolent; so that I put out my hand, and lifted him
from my way.

And lo! the Lady Mirdath turned a bitterness of speech upon me that gave
me an utter pain and astonishment; so that I was assured in a moment
that she had no true love for me, or she had never striven so to put me
to shame before the stranger, and named me uncouth and brutal to a
smaller man. And, indeed, you shall perceive how I was in my heart in
that moment.

And I saw that there was some seeming of justice in what the Lady