Eva tried to hide her crimson blushes beneath her delicate fingers, as she whispered, “If my mistress please, I would that Sir Henry should be ignorant of this unmaidenly disguise.”
“Thou lovest Sir Henry, then?” said Eleanora.
“Nay, lady, I know not that,” replied Eva; “but there is something in him that commands my regard despite my will, and I would not needlessly forfeit his esteem.”
“I will answer for thee, sweet,” replied the princess. “Sir Francis shall go according to thy wish. But must I leave thee here alone and unprotected?”
“The monarch of the forest spreads his broad arm for my protection, and thou shalt envy my repose, in my sylvan eyrie,” replied Eva, lightly springing into a fantastic seat, formed by the twisted branches of a gnarled oak, and completely concealed by the foliage. Firmly ensconced in her rustic lodge, she leaned forward and whispered a gentle farewell, as the princess, bearing in her mind a vision of a bright face, peeping out from among the green leaves, turned and rapidly retraced her steps to the hamlet.
That night Sir Francis set out with his train, and as two maidens accompanied the band, one wearing the dress of Eva, her absence excited no suspicion.
Meanwhile the sprite remained in her place of concealment, till the gathering shadows of the trees stretched stealthily across the glade the appointed signal for the gathering of the outlawed bands. The tall knight soon appeared, and, lifting her gently from the tree, placed her on a beautiful Spanish jennet, and smilingly handing her an ivory whistle, terminating in a silver cross, bade her summon her satyrs. She placed it to her lips, and blew a shrill call, and forthwith from the leafy bosom of every bush and shrub there issued a huntsman, clad in forest green, and carrying only such weapons as were used in the chase. The knight gave them hasty directions for the different points of rendezvous, at which they were to watch the safety of the young squire, warned them against those places where they would be most likely to encounter the malcontents, and then mounting the noble steed that stood pawing the turf in impatience by his side, and laying his hand upon the rein, recalled Eva to herself, by saying, with emphasis, “Sir Launfal, we must away, or morning will dawn ere we cross the fords of Exe.”
They rode at a brisk pace for some time in silence, the mind of each being too much occupied for words.
The knight at length spoke abruptly. “Thou hast a turn for adventure, pretty page, and I’ll warrant me, ready tongue, but how dost thou think to gain speech with Prince Edward?”
“Nay, that I leave with thee,” returned Eva, “since I know neither the place to which I am bound, nor the duty I am to perform.”