lady's palfrey tethered to a tree. Mistress Kate is the first
at the tryst. Go down thither to her, and I will wait here and
guard her steed; for there be many afoot in the forest this day,
and all may not be so bent on pleasure taking that they will not
wander about in search of gain, and a fair palfrey like yon would
be no small prize."

Culverhouse readily consented to this arrangement, and for some
time Cuthbert was left to a solitary enjoyment of the forest. He
caressed the horse, which responded with great gentleness and
goodwill; and then he lay down in luxurious ease, his hands crossed
behind his head, his face turned upwards towards the clear blue of
the sunny sky, seen through the delicate tracery of the bursting
buds of elm and beech. It was a perfect feast for eye and ear to
lie thus in the forest, listening to the songs of the birds, and
watching the play of light and shadow. Fresh from the roar and the
bustle of the city, Cuthbert enjoyed it as a thirsty traveller in
the desert enjoys a draught of clear cold water from a spring. He
was almost sorry when at last the sound of voices warned him that
the lovers' stolen interview was at an end, and that they were
approaching him at last.

Kate's bright face was all alight with happiness and joy as she
appeared, holding fast to her lover's arm. She greeted Cuthbert
with the prettiest air of cousinly affection, asked of himself and
his welfare with undisguised interest, and then told them of some
rustic sports being held at a village only three miles distant, and
begged Culverhouse to take her to see the spectacle. She had set
her heart upon it all day, and there would be no danger of her
being seen in the crowd sure to be assembled there to witness the
sights. Her sisters had no love for such shows, and nobody would be
greatly troubled at her hardihood in escaping from the escort of
her servants. She was always doing the like, and no harm had ever
befallen her. Her father was wont to call her his Madcap, and her
mother sometimes chided, and feared she would come to ill by her
wild freaks; but she had always turned up safe and sound, and her
independent ways had almost ceased to excite comment or uneasiness.
On May Day, when all the world was abroad and in good humour, they
would trouble still less on her account. Kate had no fear of being
overtaken and brought back, and had set her heart on going with
Culverhouse to this village fete and fair. She had heard