s pocket and hastened towards her.
Hereupon the Sergeant saluted, wheeled and marched away, yet not before
he had noted the glad light in the Major's grey eyes and, from a proper
distance, had seen him clasp my lady's white hand and kiss it
fervently. Instantly the Sergeant fell to the "double" until he was
out of sight, then he halted suddenly, shook his head, smacked hand to
thigh and laughed:

"All I say is, as there ain't, there never was, there never will be a
word for it--not one!"

CHAPTER XVIII

HOW MAJOR D'ARCY RECOVERED HIS YOUTH

So the Major kissed my lady's hand, kissed it not "on one extreme
finger-tip," but holding it in masterful clasp, kissed it on rosy palm
and dimpled knuckles, kissed it again and again with all the ardour of
a boy of twenty; and my lady sighed and--let him kiss his fill.

She wore her rustic attire but her simple gown was enriched here and
there, with the daintiest of lace as was her snowy mob-cap; and surely
never did rustic beauty blush more rosily or look with eyes more shy
than she when at last he raised his head:

"Good morrow to your worship!" said she softly, "I trust your honour
slept well?"

"No!" he answered, speaking with a strange, new vehemence, "I scarce
did close my eyes all night for thought of you----"

"Of me?"

"And of my--my folly! I looked for you this morning--I wished to tell
you ... I ... I----" Seeing him thus at a loss, my lady smiled a
little maliciously, then hasted to his relief:

"This morning?" said she gently, "I was making more butter for my poor
folk--with the aid of my lord of Alvaston, Captain West, and Sir
Jasper. But they proved so awkward with the churn that Sir Benjamin
must needs show 'em how 'twas done. And after he made much of my
rhubarb wine and would have them all taste it and insisted on the
Captain drinking three glasses--poor man!"

"Wherefore 'poor'?"

"Why, sir, 'tis truly excellent wine--to look at, but I fear 'tis
perhaps a trifle---sourish!" Here she laughed merrily, grew solemn and
sighed, glancing shyly at the Major who stood, head bowed, fumbling
with one of the gold buttons of the plum-coloured coat.

"I--trust your ladyship is well after your--your fright of yesterday,"
said he at last.

"My ladyship is very well, sir," she sighed, "though vapourish!"

"Which means?"

"Perhaps I--mourn my lost divinity."

Her tone was light, but he saw that her lips quivered as she averted
her head.

"Bet