and to him with a courtly air, as though inviting
him to approach. So he came forward, and crossing the moat by a little
bridge that was hard by, he met her at the gate. He doffed his hat, and
said a few words asking pardon for thus intruding on a private place,
but she gave him a swift smile and said, "Sir Paul, no more of this--you
are known to me, though you know me not. I have been at the Duke's as a
guest; I have heard you sing--indeed," she added smiling, "I have been
honoured by having been made known to the prince of musical men--but he
hath forgotten my poor self; I am the Lady Beckwith, who welcomes you
to her poor house--the Isle of Thorns, as they call it--and will deem it
an honour that you should set foot therein; though I think that you came
not for my sake."

"Alas, madam, no," said Paul smiling too. "I did but walk solitary in
the forest; I am lacking in courtesy, I fear; I knew not that there was
a house here, but it pleased me to see it lie like a jewel in the wood."

"You knew not it was here, or you would have shunned it!" said the Lady
Beckwith with a smile. "Well, I live here solitary enough with my
daughters--my husband is long since dead--but to-day we must have a
guest--you will enter and tarry with us a little?"

"Yes, very willingly," said Paul, who, like many men that care not much
for company, was tenderly courteous when there was no escape. So after
some further passages of courtesy, they went within.

The Lady Beckwith led him into a fair tapestried room, and bade him be
seated, while she went to call upon her servants to make ready
refreshments for him. Paul seated himself in an oak chair and looked
around him. The place was but scantily furnished, but Paul had pleasure
in looking upon the old solid furniture, which reminded him of the House
of Heritage and of his far-off boyhood. He was pleased, too, with the
tapestry, which represented a wood of walnut-trees, and a man that sate
looking upon a stream as though he listened; and then Paul discerned the
figure of a brave bird wrought among the leaves, that seemed to sing;
while he looked, he heard the faint sound in a room above of some one
moving; then a lute was touched, and then there rose a soft voice, very
pure and clear, that sang a short song of long sweet notes, with a
descant on the lute, ending in a high drawn-out note, that went to
Paul's heart like wine poured forth, and seemed to fill the room with a
kind of delicate fragr