"The water! how mean you?" asked Aliva.
"Marry, lady, he was weary and worn, and he mistook the ford at Milton as he was fleeing homewards. The Ouse was in full flood, and but for that noble knight Sir Ralph de Beauchamp, whom the saints preserve--"
"Sir Ralph de Beauchamp!" murmured Aliva, now deeply interested. "Ah," she added, with a blush, "I mind me how soaked he was with water!"
"Ay, a fair gallant he is," the other proceeded. "He thought naught of riding boldly into the Ouse at full stream, and saving my poor lad in the very nick of time, when he was being swept down the river like a truss of hay in a midsummer flood!"
Aliva lay listening, her large eyes fixed dreamily on the speaker.
"It sounds like a bold deed, and a truly marvellous turn of luck for your son. Tell on, good mother, I prithee. I would fain hear more of the fishing out of the worthy lay-brother--thine only son, too--tell on," added the astute maiden, playing on maternal feeling.
Mistress Hodges' tongue was unloosed by the evident interest the young lady of the manor evinced. His recent dangers and escapes had made the lay-brother somewhat of a hero in the village of Bletsoe. His mother was nothing loath to fight his battles over again, and prattled on with maternal pride for some time ere she perceived that her fair charge had sunk into a sound and healthful slumber, lulled by the account of her lover's daring.
Meanwhile De Breauté and his men had hurried up. They passed Aliva's riderless palfrey.
"Ah, pardie! the fair hare has run to ground, and cannot be far distant.--Lady, thy pride is nigh unto a fall," murmured William to himself, chuckling.
But the rustic in charge of the horse was either naturally or intentionally stupid. De Breauté could make nothing of him.