The boy seemed to hesitate.
"And I'm to meet you here, each night, at the edge of the Ogilvie
woods?" he questioned.
"Ay, each night for a fortnight, or a month, however long my wooing
may take."
"And I'm to spy on Mistress Judith and tell you all her goings and her
comings and all?"
"No, not to spy," retorted Lindley; "merely to let me know her passing
moods and caprices, her whimsies, her desires."
"But if you should be detained, my lord; if you cannot come, must I
send word to--to----"
"Ay, to Cecil Lindley, at----"
"Oh, my master, my master!" interrupted the boy, his elfish laughter
ringing through the woods. "Had you told me your name at first, we had
been spared all this foolish dickering. Why, Lindley's the man she
detests; the man whose very name throws her into a frenzy of temper.
There's naught that _you_ can do to win Mistress Judith. Why, man, she
despises you. Nay, she told her father only to-day--I was standing
near the tree where they sat, mind you--that if ever again your name
was mentioned to her, she would leave her home or--or even kill
herself--anything to rid her ears forever of the hateful sound. How
can _you_ hope to win Mistress Judith?"
"Win her I will, boy," answered Lindley. "I'm not afraid of her
temper, either. For you, your part is to do as you're told. Leave the
rest to me. But you need go no further now. This road leads to the
stables. I'll deliver Mistress Judith's horse with mine. A bargain's a
bargain when it's sealed with gold." He flung a sovereign onto the
road in front of him.
The two horses stood side by side, and the lad sat contemplating the
gold where it shone in the moonlight.
"As you will, Master Lindley," he said. "And I'll wager it would speed
your cause could I tell Mistress Judith that you defy her will and her
temper. That, in itself, would go far toward winning her. As for the
horses, best let me take the two of them. There are none of the boys
awake at this hour. It must be near three. With your good leave, I'll
stable yours when I put Mistress Judith's nag in its stall."
Lindley, standing in the moonlight on his cousin's steps, watched the
young play actor as he walked somewhat unsteadily away between the two
horses. He wished that he had seen the lad's face, and, curiously
enough, it was this wish, and the young play actor himself, who filled
the last thoughts in Cecil Lindley's brain before he fell asleep, in
his cousin's house--the play
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