Miss Baffin laughed and endeavored to explain to him the modern methods of existence.
“I never could have believed such a thing from other lips,” said Sir Dinadan. “It is marvellous. But tell me, how do lovers woo in your land?”
“Really, Sir Dinadan,” replied Miss Baffin, blushing, “I have had no experience worth speaking of in such matters. I suppose, perhaps, they show a lady that they love her, and then wait until she can make up her mind.”
“I will wait, then, as long as you wish.”
“But,” said Miss Baffin, shyly, although plainly she was beginning to feel a genuine interest in the proceeding, “your father and your mother may not think as you do; and then, I shall not want to stay upon this island if I can get away.”
“My mother always consents to anything I wish, and the Baron never dares to oppose what she wants. And if you go back to your own country, I will go with you, whether you accept me or not.”
Miss Baffin smiled. Sir Dinadan was in earnest, at any rate. She could not help thinking of the sensation that would be created in Wingohocking if she should walk up the fashionable street of the town some afternoon with Sir Dinadan in his parti-colored dress of doublet and stockings, and jaunty feathered cap, and sword, while his long yellow hair dangled about his shoulders.
While Sir Dinadan was protesting that he should love her for ever and for ever, they came back again to the Hermit’s cell, and then Sir Dinadan, greeting Sir Bleoberis and Sir Agravaine, presented Miss Baffin to them.
Sir Bleoberis was courteous but somewhat indifferent; Sir Agravaine, upon the contrary, appeared to be deeply impressed with Miss Baffin’s beauty. After gazing at her steadily for a few moments, he approached her, and while the other members of the company engaged in conversation, he said,—
“Fair lady, you are not married?”