clenching her little hand, struck him with
right good will. At this, Maypole Hugh burst into a roar of laughter,
and passing his arm about her waist, held her in his strong grasp as
easily as if she had been a bird.

'Ha ha ha! Well done, mistress! Strike again. You shall beat my face,
and tear my hair, and pluck my beard up by the roots, and welcome, for
the sake of your bright eyes. Strike again, mistress. Do. Ha ha ha! I
like it.'

'Let me go,' she cried, endeavouring with both her hands to push him
off. 'Let me go this moment.'

'You had as good be kinder to me, Sweetlips,' said Hugh. 'You had,
indeed. Come. Tell me now. Why are you always so proud? I don't quarrel
with you for it. I love you when you're proud. Ha ha ha! You can't hide
your beauty from a poor fellow; that's a comfort!'

She gave him no answer, but as he had not yet checked her progress,
continued to press forward as rapidly as she could. At length, between
the hurry she had made, her terror, and the tightness of his embrace,
her strength failed her, and she could go no further.

'Hugh,' cried the panting girl, 'good Hugh; if you will leave me I will
give you anything--everything I have--and never tell one word of this to
any living creature.'

'You had best not,' he answered. 'Harkye, little dove, you had best not.
All about here know me, and what I dare do if I have a mind. If ever you
are going to tell, stop when the words are on your lips, and think of
the mischief you'll bring, if you do, upon some innocent heads that you
wouldn't wish to hurt a hair of. Bring trouble on me, and I'll bring
trouble and something more on them in return. I care no more for them
than for so many dogs; not so much--why should I? I'd sooner kill a man
than a dog any day. I've never been sorry for a man's death in all my
life, and I have for a dog's.'

There was something so thoroughly savage in the manner of these
expressions, and the looks and gestures by which they were accompanied,
that her great fear of him gave her new strength, and enabled her by a
sudden effort to extricate herself and run fleetly from him. But Hugh
was as nimble, strong, and swift of foot, as any man in broad England,
and it was but a fruitless expenditure of energy, for he had her in his
encircling arms again before she had gone a hundred yards.

'Softly, darling--gently--would you fly from rough Hugh, that loves you
as well as any drawing-room gallant?'

'I would,' she answered, s