He threw a heavy purse across to Miggs, who, still muttering something about lunatics on the Heath, slowly stooped and picked it up.
"Guineas!" he muttered, weighing it in his hand, "guineas, as I live! Guineas for playing a dance tune. Nay, sir, you're mad, sure enough."
"Wilt play the tune, shepherd?" shouted Beau Brocade in wild impatience.
Jock Miggs shook his head with a determined air.
"Nay! your madness is nought to me. You've paid for a tune, and you shall have the tune. But, Lordy! Lordy! these be 'mazing times."
He settled himself down on a clump of grass-covered earth, and stolidly began piping the same old-time rigadoon. These were a pair of lunatics, for sure, but since the gentleman had paid for this extraordinary pleasure, 'twas not for a poor shepherd to refuse to earn a few honest guineas.
Beau Brocade bowed to his lady with all the courtly grace of a town gallant.
"Madam! your most humble, and most obedient servant."
As in a dream Patience began to tread the measure. It was all so strange, so unreal! surely this was a dream, and she would wake anon.
She turned and twisted in the mazes of the dance, gradually the intoxication of it all had reached her brain; she seemed to see round her in the grass pixie faces gazing curiously upon her. All the harebells seemed to tinkle, the shepherd's pipe sounded like fairy bells. Through the holes in the black mask she could see a pair of burning eyes watching her as if entranced.