ranted you this audience for my cousin's sake, and
given him my reply, it is needful that we return. Besides, the night is
coming on. The king and the feast demand your presence."

"Nay, thou cruel tyrant, tell me not of my chain. The king's humour I
can control, but"----

"Presume not on the favour of princes; an ancient but wholesome
caution," said the maiden, laughing at Sir John, who, for the first
time, seemed to be aware of his duty, and was puzzling his brains for an
excuse.

The bell now rang out lustily from the Tower, increasing the knight's
perplexity. The innocent cause of this delay only laughed at his
concern, singing, as though to herself--

"'The bell has been rung, and the mass hath been sung,
And the feast eat merrily,
Merrily!'

"and the king's master of the ceremonies absent."

The aspect of affairs was now more serious than he had anticipated.
Supper was indeed commencing. Some scheme or witty device must be hit
upon,--speedily too, or the king's displeasure might be difficult to
assuage.

"But for thy bright eyes and fair speech, my lady Grace, I had not been
amissing from my duty." He looked thoughtful, and it was the maiden's
turn to rally.

They ascended the hill by a short but steep path. As they approached the
summit, he seemed to awake from a deep reverie.

"Now have you granted me an audience for a lover's sake--to-morrow, let
me be the ambassador for another."

"I have no lovers from whom I would care to be honoured with an
embassy!"

"None?" said the knight, peering curiously, as if he would penetrate the
folds of a real Flanders scarf she had thrown carelessly about her
head--

"'Then will I be thy lover true,
And thou my beauteous queene,'

"through these gay festivities. But mark me!"--He became serious on the
sudden. The expression of his eye, from its general character of assumed
gaiety, was changed into that of tenderness and respect. "Mark me, lady,
I would be spared the horror of a rival. Will you be my partner in these
pageantries--my mistress unto whom I may render mine homage and my
trust?"

"'Tis a brave speech, Sir John," cried the lady, as though wishful to
divert the subject. "My cousin tells me that you are a knight of great
courage and renown, but he sayeth not aught of your disposition to
outrival him in heroics. Good-bye--a promise made is a promise broken;
therefore, I'll offer none. I meet you not to-nigh