when you
choose, Master Malapert. But you are more fit to speak of high and
weary matters with my sister Mary. She will have none of the prattle and
courtesy of Sir George, and yet I love them well. But tell me, Nigel,
why do you come to Cosford to-night?"

"To bid you farewell."

"Me alone?"

"Nay, Edith, you and your sister Mary and the good knight your father."

"Sir George would have said that he had come for me alone. Indeed you
are but a poor courtier beside him. But is it true, Nigel, that you go
to France?"

"Yes, Edith."

"It was so rumored after the King had been to Tilford. The story goes
that the King goes to France and you in his train. Is that true?"

"Yes, Edith, it is true."

"Tell me, then, to what part you go, and when?"

"That, alas! I may not say."

"Oh, in sooth!" She tossed her fair head and rode onward in silence,
with compressed lips and angry eyes.

Nigel glanced at her in surprise and dismay. "Surely, Edith," said he at
last, "you have overmuch regard for my honor that you should wish me to
break the word that I have given?"

"Your honor belongs to you, and my likings belong to me," said she. "You
hold fast to the one, and I will do the same by the other."

They rode in silence through Thursley village. Then a thought came to
her mind and in an instant her anger was forgotten and she was hot on a
new scent.

"What would you do if I were injured, Nigel? I have heard my father say
that small as you are there is no man in these parts could stand against
you. Would you be my champion if I suffered wrong?"

"Surely I or any man of gentle blood would be the champion of any woman
who had suffered wrong."

"You or any and I or any--what sort of speech is that? Is it a
compliment, think you, to be mixed with a drove in that fashion? My
question was of you and me. If I were wronged would you be my man?"

"Try me and see, Edith!"

"Then I will do so, Nigel. Either Sir George Brocas or the Squire of
Fernhurst would gladly do what I ask, and yet I am of a mind, Nigel, to
turn to you."

"I pray you to tell me what it is."

"You know Paul de la Fosse of Shalford?"

"You mean the small man with the twisted back?"

"He is no smaller than yourself, Nigel, and as to his back there are
many folk that I know who would be glad to have his face."

"Nay, I am no judge of that, and I spoke out of no discourtesy. What of
the man?"

"He has flouted me, Nigel, and I would have revenge."