She had ridden about a mile when she heard a horse's feet behind her; she smiled, and her color rose a little, but she cantered on.
"Halt! in the King's name," shouted a mellow voice, and a gentleman galloped up to her side, and reined in his mare.
"What! have they killed?" inquired Catherine, demurely.
"Not they; he is in the middle of Gallowstree Gorse by now."
"And is this the way to Gallowstree Gorse?"
"Nay, mistress," said the young man; "but, when the fox heads one way and the deer another, what is a poor hunter to do?"
"Follow the slower, it seems."
"Say the lovelier and the dearer, sweet Kate."
"Now, Griffith, you know I hate flattery," said Kate; and the next moment came a soft smile, and belied this unsocial sentiment.
"Flattery?" said the lover. "I have no tongue to speak half your praise. I think the people in this country are as blind as bats, or they'd—"