have asked, but
would have vowed upon the instant. 'Tis but to bear me out in what I say
to my father."

"In what?"

"In saying, if he ask, that it was south of the Christchurch road that I
met you. I shall be shut up with the tire-women else, and have a week
of spindle and bodkin, when I would fain be galloping Troubadour up
Wilverley Walk, or loosing little Roland at the Vinney Ridge herons."

"I shall not answer him if he ask."

"Not answer! But he will have an answer. Nay, but you must not fail me,
or it will go ill with me."

"But, lady," cried poor Alleyne in great distress, "how can I say that
it was to the south of the road when I know well that it was four miles
to the north."

"You will not say it?"

"Surely you will not, too, when you know that it is not so?"

"Oh, I weary of your preaching!" she cried, and swept away with a toss
of her beautiful head, leaving Alleyne as cast down and ashamed as
though he had himself proposed some infamous thing. She was back again
in an instant, however, in another of her varying moods.

"Look at that, my friend!" said she. "If you had been shut up in abbey
or in cell this day you could not have taught a wayward maiden to abide
by the truth. Is it not so? What avail is the shepherd if he leaves his
sheep."

"A sorry shepherd!" said Alleyne humbly. "But here is your noble
father."

"And you shall see how worthy a pupil I am. Father, I am much beholden
to this young clerk, who was of service to me and helped me this very
morning in Minstead Woods, four miles to the north of the Christchurch
road, where I had no call to be, you having ordered it otherwise." All
this she reeled off in a loud voice, and then glanced with sidelong,
questioning eyes at Alleyne for his approval.

Sir Nigel, who had entered the room with a silvery-haired old lady upon
his arm, stared aghast at this sudden outburst of candor.

"Maude, Maude!" said he, shaking his head, "it is more hard for me to
gain obedience from you than from the ten score drunken archers who
followed me to Guienne. Yet, hush! little one, for your fair lady-mother
will be here anon, and there is no need that she should know it. We will
keep you from the provost-marshal this journey. Away to your chamber,
sweeting, and keep a blithe face, for she who confesses is shriven. And
now, fair mother," he continued, when his daughter had gone, "sit
you here by the fire, for your blood runs colder than it did. Alleyne
Edri