at, alarmed for the consequences, she veiled her eyes
again circumspectly by dropping her long lashes upon her cheek.

"Did you really come out to meet me, Maud?" cried Sholto, all the life
flooding back into his cheeks, "in this do you speak truth and no
mockery?"

"I only said that we maidens were so much in fear of our Castle
Governor, that we must not walk out even to meet him!"

At this Sholto let his horse go where it would, and, as they were
passing at the time through a coppice of hazel, he caught his saucy
sweetheart quickly by the wrist.

"Mistress Maud, you shall not play with me!" he said; "you will tell
me plainly--do you love me or do you not?"

Maud Lindesay puckered her pretty face as if she had been about to
cry.

"You hurt my arm!" she said plaintively, looking up at him with the
long pathetic gaze of a gentle helpless animal undeservedly put in
pain.

Sholto perforce released the pressure on her arm. She instantly put
both hands behind her.

"You did not hurt me at all--hear you that, Master Sholto," she cried,
"and I do not love you--not that much, Sir Noble Bully!"

And she snapped her finger and thumb like a flash beneath his nose.

"Not that much!" she repeated viciously, and did it again. Sholto
turned away sternly.

"You are nothing but a silly girl, and not worthy that any true man
should either love or marry you!" he said, walking off in the
direction of the castle.

Maud Lindesay looked after him a moment as if not believing her eyes
and ears. Then, so soon as she made sure that he was indeed not coming
back, she tripped quickly after him. He was taking long strides, and
it required a series of small hops and skips to keep up with him.

"Not really, Sholto?" she said beseechingly, almost running beside him
now. He walked so fast.

"Yes, madam, really!" said that young knight, still more sternly.

She took a little run to get a step in front of him, so that she might
advantageously look up into his face.

"Then you will not marry me, Sholto?"

Her hands were clasped with the sweetest petitionary grace.

"_No!_"

The monosyllable escaped from his lips with a snort like a puff of
steam from under the lid of a boiling pot.

"Not even if I ask you very nicely, Sholto?"

"No!"

The negative came again, apparently fiercer than before, almost like
an explosion indeed. But still there was a hollow sound about it
somewhere.

At this the girl stopped suddenly and, drawing