wall
as she was returning with sticks for kindling, and was struck by her
free and noble carriage; for though she was little more than a child,
through all her rags she shone with the grace and splendor not only of
her race, but of the wild life she lived on the hills when she was not
in her ruins. She was as strong and fine as a young hind, and could run
like any deer upon the Downs, and climb like any squirrel. And the
dull-sighted peasant, seeing as though for the first time her untamed
beauty, on an impulse offered to kiss her and make her his woman.

Rosalind stared at him like one aroused from sleep with a rude blow.
The color flamed in her cheek. "YOU to accost so one of my blood?" she
cried. "Mongrel, go back to your kennel!"

The lout gaped between rage and mortification, and, muttering, made a
step towards her; but suddenly seeming to think better of it, stumbled
away.

Then Rosalind, lifting her glowing face, as beautiful as sunset with
its double flush, rose under gold, saw Harding the Red Hunter gazing at
her. Some business had brought him over the ferry, and on his road he
had lit upon the suit and its rejection. Rosalind, her spirit chafed
with what had passed, returned his gaze haughtily. But he maintained
his steadfast look as though he had been hewn out of stone; and
presently, impatient and disdainful, she turned away. Then, and
instantly, Harding pursued his way in silence. And Rosalind grew
somehow aware that he had determined to stand at gaze until her eyes
were lowered. Thereupon she classed his presumption with that of the
other who had dared address her, and hated him for taking part against
her. Near as their dwellings were, divided only by the river and a
breadth of water-meadow, their intercourse had always been of the
slightest, for Harding possessed a reserve as great as her own. But
from this hour their intercourse ceased entirely.

The boor mis-spread the tale of her overweening pride through the
hamlet, and when next she appeared there she was greeted with derision.

"This is she that holds herself unfit to mate with an honest man!"
cried some. And others, "Nay, do but see the silken gown of the great
lady Rosalind, see the fine jewels of her!" "She thinks she outshines
the Queen of Bramber's self!" scoffed a woman. And a man demanded,
"What blood's good enough to mix with hers, if ours be not?"

"A king's!" flashed Rosalind. And even as she spoke the jeering throng
parted to le