you know about these
things? Were you--were you there?"

She turned upon him, with her soul in her eyes. As for him, lying at
length upon the ground, he locked his hands beneath his head and began to
sing, though scarce above his breath. He sang the song of Amiens:--

"Under the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me."

When he had come to the end of the stanza he half rose, and turned toward
the mute and breathless figure leaning against the beech-tree. For her the
years had rolled back: one moment she stood upon the doorstep of the
cabin, and the air was filled with the trampling of horses, with quick
laughter, whistling, singing, and the call of a trumpet; the next she ran,
in night-time and in terror, between rows of rustling corn, felt again the
clasp of her pursuer, heard at her ear the comfort of his voice. A film
came between her eyes and the man at whom she stared, and her heart grew
cold.

"Audrey," said Haward, "come here, child."

The blood returned to her heart, her vision cleared, and her arm fell from
its clasp upon the tree. The bark opened not; the hamadryad had lost the
spell. When at his repeated command she crossed to him, she went as the
trusting, dumbly loving, dumbly grateful child whose life he had saved,
and whose comforter, protector, and guardian he had been. When he took her
hands in his she was glad to feel them there again, and she had no blushes
ready when he kissed her upon the forehead. It was sweet to her who
hungered for affection, who long ago had set his image up, loving him
purely as a sovereign spirit or as a dear and great elder brother, to hear
him call her again "little maid;" tell her that she had not changed save
in height; ask her if she remembered this or that adventure, what time
they had strayed in the woods together. Remember! When at last, beneath
his admirable management, the wonder and the shyness melted away, and she
found her tongue, memories came in a torrent. The hilltop, the deep woods
and the giant trees, the house he had built for her out of stones and
moss, the grapes they had gathered, the fish they had caught, the
thunderstorm when he had snatched her out of the path of a stricken and
falling pine, an alarm of Indians, an alarm of wolves, finally the first
faint sounds of the returning expedition, the distant trumpet note, the
nearer approach, the bursting again into the valley of the Governor and
his party, the journey from that loved spot to