She understood him at once; but she shook her head, with a bright smile:—
‘It is not so bad as that. We have enough, and to be independent and happy on. When the time comes, my brothers will care for me.’
He felt he could not urge her further without discredit to himself and insult to that brave young spirit. If, in her eyes, he had forfeited his right to, in her eyes persistence would but blacken his case; and that he would not risk. He went back with her to the house, where, like a proper little hostess, she insisted upon serving him and Clerivault with a stirrup-cup of sweet metheglin to warm them for their homeward journey. He kissed his hand to her on starting. ‘Goodbye, dear Alse!’ he said. But she only dropped him a staid little courtesy in response, with a ‘Fare thee well, Master Middleton.’
He was very silent as he rode back; might have felt even a deeper preoccupation could he have guessed how those same sweet eyes would go following his receding figure in imagination, on and on into the night, until they parted with it in the land of dreams, where hopeless Fancy yields itself to Oblivion.
‘A winsome little lady, Sir,’ said Clerivault, breaking into his abstraction, with an odd side-glance. ‘A man might do worse than wive with such.’
‘Worse!’ He turned on his comrade, with a sudden violence: ‘I tell you no gentleman of honour and renown but might count it his rich fortune to possess her—a gentleman—the best—nor such an one as, lapped in self-sufficiency, forgets past benefits—old claims and affections—a toad of ingratitude——’
He broke off with a choke, and spurring his horse in a quick fury, sprang on ahead. The other thought it wise to trail behind and let the subject be.
On the day following this visit Brion went to say good-bye to his friend, the Captain of the Queen’s Guard. Raleigh came out to see him at the postern-gate which lay near his quarters. He was splendidly equipped, being just about to attend the Queen’s Majesty on some ceremonial visit, and his manner in consequence was a little abstracted and hurried, though smilingly genial.
‘Well,’ said he, ‘I should be the last to traverse that decision, who lured thee hither with a bait so false. Acquit me of that. I am not of those who would rather lose a friend than a jest. May the next enterprise I draw thee on to be more fortunate. You’ll remember your pledge to that?’
‘The expedition? Did I pledge myself?’