o tell it me," he answered.

"oh!" she cried tossing her head, "if it is of so little interest

to you, we had best let it bide."

"nay," said he eagerly, "i would fain hear it."

"you have a right to know it, if you have lost a brother's favor

through it. and yet----ah well, you are, as i understand, a

clerk, so i must think of you as one step further in orders, and

make you my father-confessor. know then that this man has been a

suitor for my hand, less as i think for my own sweet sake than

because he hath ambition and had it on his mind that he might

improve his fortunes by dipping into my father's strong box--

though the virgin knows that he would have found little enough

therein. my father, however, is a proud man, a gallant knight

and tried soldier of the oldest blood, to whom this man's

churlish birth and low descent----oh, lackaday! i had forgot

that he was of the same strain as yourself."

"nay, trouble not for that," said alleyne, "we are all from good

mother eve."

"streams may spring from one source, and yet some be clear and

some be foul," quoth she quickly. "but, to be brief over the

matter, my father would have none of his wooing, nor in sooth

would i. on that he swore a vow against us, and as he is known

to be a perilous man, with many outlaws and others at his back,

my father forbade that i should hawk or hunt in any part of the

wood to the north of the christchurch road. as it chanced,

however, this morning my little roland here was loosed at a

strong-winged heron, and page bertrand and i rode on, with no

thoughts but for the sport, until we found ourselves in minstead

woods. small harm then, but that my horse troubadour trod with a

tender foot upon a sharp stick, rearing and throwing me to the

ground. see to my gown, the third that i have befouled within

the week. wo worth me when agatha the tire-woman sets eyes upon

it!"

"and what then, lady?" asked alleyne.

"why, then away ran troubadour, for belike i spurred him in

falling, and bertrand rode after him as hard as hoofs could bear

him. when i rose there was the socman himself by my side, with

the news that i was on his land, but with so many courteous words

besides, and such gallant bearing, that he prevailed upon me to

come to his house for shelter, there to wait until the page

return. by the grace of the virgin and the help of my patron st.

magdalen, i stopped short ere i reached his door, though, as you

saw, he strove to hale me up to it. and then--ah-h-h-h!"--she

shivered and chattered like one in an ague-fit.

"what is it?" cried alleyne, looking about in alarm.

"nothing, friend, nothing! i was but thinking how i bit into his

hand. sooner would i bite living toad or poisoned snake. oh, i

shall loathe my lips forever! but you--how brave you were, and

how quick! how meek for yourself, and how bold for a stranger!

if i were a man, i should wish to do what you have done."

"it was a small thing," he answered, with a tingle of pleasure at

these sweet words of praise. "but you--what will you do?"

"there is a great oak near here, and i think that bertrand will

bring the horses there, for it is an old hunting-tryst of ours.

then hey for home, and no more hawking to-day! a twelve-mile

gallop will dry feet and skirt."

"but your father?"

"not one word shall i tell him. you do not know him; but i can

tell you he is not a man to disobey as i have disobeyed him. he

would avenge me, it is true, but it is not to him that i shall

look for vengeance. some day, perchance, in joust or in tourney,

knight may wish to wear my colors, and then i shall tell him that

if he does indeed crave my favor there is wrong unredressed, and

the wronger the socman of minstead. so my knight shall find a

venture such as bold knights love, and my debt shall be paid, and

my father none the wiser, and one rogue the less in the world.

say, is not that a brave plan?"

"nay, lady, it is a thought which is unworthy of you. how can

such as you speak of violence and of vengeance. are none to be

gentle and kind, none to be piteous and forgiving? alas! it is a

hard, cruel world, and i would that i had never left my abbey

cell. to hear such words from your lips is as though i heard an

angel of grace preaching the devil's own creed."

she started from him as a young colt who first feels the bit.

"gramercy for your rede, young sir!" she said, with a little

curtsey. "as i understand your words, you are grieved that you

ever met me, and look upon me as a preaching devil. why, my

father is a bitter man when he is wroth, but hath never called me

such a name as that. it may be his right and duty, but certes it

is none of thine. so it would be best, since you think so lowly

of me, that you should take this path to the left while i keep on

upon this one; for it is cle