ed.

"Make the trial! Behold, I'm firmly seated here!"

A maid carried my message while I paced the corridor; the lady's
compliments returned to me, but, thanks to the attention of the host,
she had need of nothing. I sent again, saying that I desired to speak
with her concerning our journey. The lady's excuses returned to me; she
had a headache and had sought her bed; she must pray me to defer my
business till the morrow, and wished Mistress Gwyn and me good-night.
The maid tripped off smiling.

"Plague on her!" I cried angrily and loudly. A laugh greeted the
exclamation, and I turned to see Nell standing in the doorway of the
room where we had supped.

"I knew, I knew!" she cried, revelling in her triumph, her eyes dancing
in delight. "Poor Simon! Alas, poor Simon, you know little of women! But
come, you're a brave lad, and I'll comfort you. Besides you have given
me a jewelled dagger. Shall I lend it to you again, to plunge in your
heart, poor Simon?"

"I don't understand you. I have no need of a dagger," I answered
stiffly; yet, feeling a fool there in the passage, I followed her into
the room.

"Your heart is pierced already?" she asked. "Ah, but your heart heals
well! I'll spend no pity on you."

There was now a new tone in her voice. Her eyes still sparkled in
mischievous exultation that she had proved right and I come away sore
and baffled. But when she spoke of the healing of my heart, there was an
echo of sadness; the hinting of some smothered sorrow seemed to be
struggling with her mirth. She was a creature all compounded of sudden
changing moods; I did not know when they were true, when feigned in
sport or to further some device. She came near now and bent over my
chair, saying gently,

"Alas, I'm very wicked! I couldn't help the folk cheering me, Simon.
Surely it was no fault of mine?"

"You had no need to look out of the window of the coach," said I
sternly.

"But I did that with never a thought. I wanted the air. I----"

"Nor to jest and banter. It was mighty unseemly, I swear."

"In truth I was wrong to jest with them," said Nell remorsefully. "And
within, Simon, my heart was aching with shame, even while I jested. Ah,
you don't know the shame I feel!"

"In good truth," I returned, "I believe you feel no shame at all."

"You're very cruel to me, Simon. Yet it's no more than my desert. Ah,
if----"; she sighed heavily. "If only, Simon----," she said, and her
hand was very near my hair by