And they then, very speedy and sedate, as though I were some rack-rape
that they did well to be feared of alone at night; and so came at last
to the village green, where a great dance was a-foot, with torches, and
a wandering fiddler to set the tune; and ale in plenty. And the two to join the dance, and danced very hearty; but had only each
the other for a partner, and had a good care to avoid the torches. And
by this, I was pretty sure that they were truly the Lady Mirdath and her
maid; and so I took chance when they had danced somewhat my way, to step
over to them, and ask boldly for a dance. But, indeed, the tall one
answered, simpering, that she was promised; and immediately gave her
hand to a great hulking farmer-lout, and went round the green with him;
and well punished she was for her waywardness; for she had all her skill
to save her pretty feet from his loutish stampings; and very glad she
was to meet the end of the dance. And I knew now for certainty that it was Mirdath the Beautiful, despite
her plan of disguise, and the darkness and the wench's dress and the
foot-gear that marred her step so great. And I walked across to her, and
named her, whispering, by name; and gave her plain word to be done of
this unwisdom, and I would take her home. But she to turn from me, and
she stamped her foot, and went again to the lout; and when she had
suffered another dance with him, she bid him be her escort a part of the
way; the which he was nothing loath of. And another lad, that was mate to him, went likewise; and in a moment,
so soon as they were gone away from the light of the torches, the rough
hind-lads made to set their arms about the waists of the two wenches,
not wetting who they had for companions. And the Lady Mirdath was no
longer able to endure, and cried out in her sudden fear and disgust, and
struck the rough hind that embraced her, so hard that he loosed her a
moment, swearing great oaths. And directly he came back to her again,
and had her in a moment, to kiss her; and she, loathing him to the very
death, beat him madly in the face with her hands; but to no end, only
that I was close upon them. And, in that moment, she screamed my name
aloud; and I caught the poor lout and hit him once, but not to harm him
overmuch; yet to give him a long memory of me; and afterward I threw him
into the side of the road. But the second hind, having heard my name,
loosed from the tiring-maid, and ran for his life; and, indeed, my
strength was known all about that part. And I caught Mirdath the Beautiful by her shoulders, and shook her very
soundly, in my anger. And afterward, I sent the maid onward; and she,
having no word from her Mistress to stay, went forward a little; and in
this fashion we came at last to the hedge-gap, with the Lady Mirdath
very hushed; but yet walking anigh to me, as that she had some secret
pleasure of my nearness. And I led her through the gap, and so homeward
to the Hall; and there bid her good-night at a side door that she held
the key of. And, truly, she bid me good-night in an utter quiet voice;
and was almost as that she had no haste to be gone from me that night. Yet, when I met her on the morrow, she was full of a constant impudence
to me; so that, having her alone to myself, when the dusk was come, I
asked her why she would never be done of her waywardness; because that I
ached to have companionship of her; and, instead, she denied my need. And, at that, she was at once very gentle; and full of a sweet and
winsome understanding; and surely knew that I wished to be rested; for
she brought out her harp, and played me dear olden melodies of our
childhood-days all that evening; and so had my love for her the more
intent and glad. And she saw me that night to the hedge-gap, having her
three great boar-hounds with her, to company her home again. But,
indeed, I followed her afterwards, very silent, until I saw her safe
into the Hall; for I would not have her alone in the night; though she
believed that I was then far away on the country road. And as she walked
with her dogs, one or another would run back to me, to nose against me
friendly-wise; but I sent them off again very quiet; and she had no
knowledge of aught; for she to go singing a love-song quietly all the
way home. But whether she loved me, I could not tell; though she had a
nice affection for me. Now, on the following evening, I went somewhat early to the gap; and lo! who should be standing in the gap, talking to the Lady Mirdath; but a
very clever-drest man, that had a look of the Court about him; and he,
when I approached, made no way for me through the gap; but stood firm,
and eyed me very insolent; so that I put out my hand, and lifted him
from my way. And lo! the Lady Mirdath turned a bitterness of speech upon me that gave
me an utter pain and astonishment; so that I was assured in a moment
that she had no true love for me, or she had never striven so to put me
to shame before the stranger, and named me uncouth and brutal to a
smaller man. And, indeed, you shall perceive how I was in my heart in
that moment. And I saw that there was some seeming of justice in what the Lady
Mirdath said; but yet might the man have shown a better spirit; and
moreover Mirdath the Beautiful had no true call to shame me, her true
friend and cousin, before this stranger. Yet did I not stop to argue;
but bowed very low to the Lady Mirdath; and afterward I bowed a little
to the man and made apology; for, indeed, he was neither great nor
strong-made; and I had been better man to have shown courtesy to him; at
least in the first. And so, having done justice to my own respect, I turned and went on, and
left them to their happiness. Now, I walked then, maybe twenty good miles, before I came to my own
home; for there was no rest in me all that night, or ever, because that
I was grown deadly in love of Mirdath the Beautiful; and all my spirit
and heart and body of me pained with the dreadful loss that I was come
so sudden upon. And for a great week I had my walks in another direction; but in the end
of that week, I must take my walk along the olden way, that I might
chance to have but a sight of My Lady. And, truly, I had all sight that
ever man did need to put him in dread pain and jealousy; for, truly, as
I came in view of the gap, there was the Lady Mirdath walking just
without the borders of the great wood; and beside her there walked the
clever-drest man of the Court, and she suffered his arm around her, so
that I knew they were lovers; for the Lady Mirdath had no brothers nor
any youthful men kin. Yet, when Mirdath saw me upon the road, she shamed in a moment to be so
caught; for she put her lover's arm from about her, and bowed to me, a
little changed of colour in the face; and I bowed very low--being but a
young man myself--; and so passed on, with my heart very dead in me.