“Sir,” quoth I, “my name is Milisent Louvaine, to serve you.”
“Truly,” saith he, “and it shall serve me right well to know so mellifluous a name. (Note 3.) And what dwelling is honoured by being your fair home, my honey-sweet damsel?”
“Sir,” said I, “I dwell at Selwick Hall, o’er the lake in yonder quarter.”
“It must be a delightsome dwelling,” he made answer. “And—elders have you, fairest Mistress?”
“I thank the Lord, ay, Sir. Sir Aubrey Louvaine is my father, and Dame Lettice, sometime named Eden, my mother.”
“Lettice Eden!” saith he, and methought something sorrowfully, as though Mother’s old name should have waked some regrets within him. “I do mind me, long time gone, of a fair maiden of that name, that was with my sometime Lady of Surrey, and might now and then be seen at the Court with her lady, or with the fair Lady of Richmond, her lord’s sister. Could it have been the same, I marvel?”
“Sir,” said I, “I cast no doubt thereon. My mother was bower-maiden unto my Lady of Surrey, afore she were wed.”
“Ah!” saith he, and fetched a great sigh. “She was the fairest maiden that ever mine eyes beheld. At the least—I thought so yesterday.”
“My sister is more like her than I,” I did observe. “She is round by yonder, a-playing the painter.”
“Ah,” quoth he, something carelessly, “I did see a young damsel, sitting of a stone o’er yonder. Very fair, in good sooth: yet I have seen fairer,—even within the compass of Saint Hubert’s Isle. And I do marvel that she should be regarded as favouring my good Lady your mother more than you, sweet Mistress Milisent.”