nt to give so much. She
had not meant to yield at all until Cecil knew--until he knew--why,
certain things that he must know before he could take what she so
longed to give.

"I--I must speak, my cousin, there is something I must tell you," she
faltered, and no one would have known the trembling voice for that of
Mistress Judith Ogilvie.

"Ah, sweetheart, speak, speak all you will," cried Lindley. "Your
voice is music in my ears. Say that you love me, say it over and over,
for whatever else you say, whatever else you tell me, that is all I'll
hear."

"Nay, but, Master Lindley----"

Cecil's brain sprang to the sound, and all at once he seemed to
recognize a perfume familiar, yet all unfamiliar.

But then there fell upon their ears a clash of swords in the court.
Lindley and the girl, standing near the window, were thrust aside by
Master Ogilvie and the innkeeper.

"Mr. Ashley and his servant are quartered here," sputtered the latter,
"and like as not 'tis one of them. The man's as quarrelsome as his
master."

"_Aie!_" cried Judith, suddenly, "'tis Johan, the player's boy, and
Johan cannot fight. He will be killed! Stop it, good Marmaduke. Have a
care, boy! Protect yourself! Hit under! Ay, now, to the left! 'Fend
yourself, Johan!"

"But if 'tis Johan, the player's boy," cried Lindley, "he needs no
instructions. He's master of the art of fighting."

But Judith was heedless of the meaning in his words.

"He knows not one end of the sword from t'other," she cried,
impetuously, the hot blood in her cheeks. Leaning far from the window,
it seemed almost as though she fought with Johan's sword, so fast her
instructions followed one the other, so exactly her motions portrayed
what he should do.

The fight in the yard was summarily stopped by the intervention of
Marmaduke and Master Ogilvie. Then Judith, drawing back into the room,
met Lindley's eyes for just a second.

"Ah, what have I done?" she cried.

"Oh, Judith, Judith!" he exclaimed. "Johan, Johan, and I never for an
instant knew it!"

"Ay, Johan, the player's boy," she answered. The words were almost a
sob, and yet Lindley heard the same tremulous laugh that had rung
through the woods the night when Johan had killed the highwayman.
"Johan, the player's boy, and Judith, the play actor!"

"But----"

"No, there is no but," she answered, quickly. "'Twas that, too, that I
was trying to tell you. But I've been Johan to you for all this time,
though I've h