put food before him; and they ate together, Margaret
serving him with meat and wine; and Paul would have forbidden it, but
the Lady Beckwith said, "That is the way of our house--and you are our
guest and must be content--for Margaret loves to serve you." The girl
said little, but as she moved about softly and deftly, with the
fragrance of youth about her, Paul had a desire to draw her to him,
that made him ashamed and ill at ease. So the hours sped swiftly. The
maiden talked little, but the Lady Beckwith had much matter for little
speech; she asked Paul many questions, and told him something of her
own life, and how, while the good Sir Harry, her husband, lived, she
had been much with the world, but now lived a quiet life, "Like a
wrinkled apple-tree behind a house," she added with a smile, "guarding
my fruit, till it be plucked from the bough." And she went on to say
that though she had feared, when she entered the quiet life, the days
would hang heavy, yet there never seemed time enough for all the small
businesses that she was fain to do.

When the day began to fall, and the shadows of the trees out of the
forest began to draw nearer across the lawn, Paul rose and said,
"Come, I will sing you a song of farewell and thanks for this day of
pleasure," and he made them a cheerful ditty; and so took his leave,
the Lady Beckwith saying that they would speak of his visit for many
days--and that she hoped that if his fancy led him again through the
wood, he would come to them; "For you will find an open door, and a
warm hearth, and friends who look for you." So Paul went, and walked
through the low red sunset with a secret joy in his heart; and never
had he sung so merrily as he sang that night in the hall of the Duke;
so that the Duke said smiling that they must often go a-hunting, and
leave Sir Paul behind, for that seemed to fill him to the brim with
divine melody.

Now Paul that night, before he laid him down to sleep, stood awhile,
and made a prayer in his heart. It must be said that as a child he had
prayed night and morning, in simple words that Mistress Alison had
taught him, but in the years when he was with Mark the custom had died
away; for Mark prayed not, and indeed had almost an enmity to churches
and to priests, saying that they made men bound who would otherwise be
free; and he had said to Paul once that he prayed the best who lived
nobly and generously, and made most perfect whatever gift he had; who
was