"Where? Can't you call it to mind?"
"Was it in the lists at Carisbrooke?"
"In sooth it was," said the girl, laughing; "and somewhere else, too."
"Not at Appuldurcombe, was it?"
"Ay, marry was it, and elsewhere, too. At it again." But then seeing the effort of memory was too much for Ralph in his weak state, the girl added,--"There, you can't think now. Lie still, and I will tell you. Do you mind lending some poor vagrants a pony at Thruxton? Do you mind a certain night, when you were nigh going over the edge of a cliff near St Catherine's Down? You never knew who it was that spoke to you that night in the mist? And you never knew who sent you the glove? Ah, well! 'twas lucky for you you wore it, or father would have knocked you off like all the others. And why do you think I did it?" she said, with an arch smile.
"I can't tell," said Ralph, dreamily.
"Well, but you might think." Then seeing that Ralph's thoughts were far away, she added, in a pitying tone,--"Why, because thou wast so kind to father and me that day at Thruxton. You little knew who I was."
"And who are you?" said Ralph absently.
"Oh, that is a merry conceit. Don't you know now?"
"No; tell me. How can I tell?"