upon the quaking
grass, setting its beautiful spikelets in motion until they seemed like
fairy bells rung by elfin fingers. The flutter and hum of the wild things
served but to intensify the stillness of the wood.

All at once the deep bass notes of a hound broke upon the air. Louder and
louder grew the baying, and soon from out of the purplish shade of the
trees there dashed a large greyhound followed by a laughing, panting
maiden.

"Content thee, Echo," she cried flinging herself upon the sward under a
wide-spreading oak. "I have breath to follow thee no more. Rest until our
good cousin joins us."

The dog obediently stretched himself by her side, and once more quiet
reigned in the wold. Presently the maiden sat up with an impatient
movement.

"He tarries long," she said throwing a mass of auburn curls from a broad,
low brow. "Marry! I fear that we have done but an ill turn to the good
Hugh."

As she spoke the form of an elderly man emerged from the trees and
approached her slowly. He was withered and thin and though but fifty
years of age seemed much older. His doublet and hose were of some dark
stuff and his short cloak was surmounted by a huge ruff, the edges of
which almost joined the brim of the small, high, cone-shaped hat which
partly concealed his gray hair.

"By the mass, Francis! methinks that thou dost grow more unmannerly each
day. Thou art as unthinking as the butterfly, else thou wouldst not have
burdened my fore-wearied flesh with thy bow."

"In sooth, it was but a poor return for thy kindness to leave thee my
bow," observed the girl as she hastened to relieve him of the crossbow
that he held. "Thy pardon, Master Hugh. I was intent upon the race and
thought not of it. It was a good dash, I promise you."

"Ay! I make no doubt of it," grumbled the old man seating himself. "But
'twere meeter for a maiden to embroider, or to play the virginals than to
shoot the bow or run with the hounds as thou dost."

"Said I not my Latin well this morning, cousin?" queried Francis. "Doth
not my lady mother instruct me in the tent and cross-stitch each day?
Besides doth not even the Queen's Majesty disport herself with the bow?
'Tis the fashion, good my master."

"Ay! 'Dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currunt,'"[A] spoke the old
man sharply.

"Be not angry, cousin, I did but ill in running from thee."

"Marry! let it pass, but I mislike such sturdiness, Francis. Thou hast
led me a sorry chase and we