“Go free! Turn peasant an thou wilt! But as concerning thy land, King Richard is God's anointed, shall look to his stewardship. I will keep custom for Christ's sake. Wherefore is thy manor confiscate, and the villeins that dwell thereon, to the King.”—He set his lips in a grim smile: “Who saith Richard is not a good provisor, against his wedding day?”
The gaoler pushed Stephen and Calote out of the room and down the stair:—
“Best begone,” quoth he, “hath been known to change his mind,” and he shut them out by a postern.
They went and sat on the side of Saint Catherine's Hill that looked on Thames. A long while they sat there, holding each other's hand, smiling each into other's eyes, saying little. But Stephen said:—
“Thou 'rt mine!”
And Calote said:—
“Methought this love was not for me!”
Her feet were bare, her kirtle frayed, and all their worldly goods was a penny the gaoler had thrust in Stephen's hand. Stephen laughed, and tossed the penny and caught it on the back of his hand. Then Calote laughed also, and said she, shaking her head and smiling:—
“'T is not true that failure lieth in wait all along life's way?” and a question grew in her eyes, and the smile faded.
He kissed her gray eyes where the shadows hovered:—