"Ah, Mr. Denis," she whispered, "be not angry with me; say you are not wroth, and then go. I beseech you to go away, but first say you are not angry.... I must not talk with you; must not be seen to talk with you, I mean." She might have said more had I not stopped her.
"Not to be seen to talk with me? Am I a man to be scorned, then?"
She answered below her breath: "'Tis rather I am a maid to be scorned, methinks.... Oh, look not so!" she added swiftly, "I must go within.... If they should know you have come..."
"Who should know?" cried I, very big; "and what care I who knows? I am not accustomed to shun them that question my behaviour."
"No, no, you are brave," said she, "and 'tis there that my peril lies, if not your own. You may defend yourself, a man may do so having a sword. But we women have no weapon."
"Who would hurt you?" I asked, moving a step back to the gate. "Not Guido Malpas, I warrant, this many a day."
"I live amongst wicked men coming and going," she replied. I could feel her hand shake that I now held in mine. "But now go. I am not worth this coil we make; you can do nothing that you have not done already. I will remember you," said she in a strange pleading voice, "and I think you will not forget me awhile either." She paused a little, panting as though she had been weary. "And, Mr. Denis, my heart is big with pride of your coming hither."
These words she spoke in the deep full voice she used when moved, and then turning from me, went within and shut to the door.
"Now Heaven forbid me mercy," said I aloud, "if I probe not to the bottom of this pool."
I pulled down my jerkin in front, and set my ruff even. Then opening the purse that hung at my belt, I counted the coins that were in it. There were a dozen shillings and some few halfpence. "Certain 'tis time I got employment," I mused, "yet I allow myself one day more;" and with that I slid the coins back in my purse, and looked about me.