The park of Dunbury was very like that described by old Chaucer:--
'----A parke enclosed with a wall
la compace rounde, and by a gate small,
Who so that would he frelie mighten gone
Into this parke, ywalled with grene stone.
* * * * * The soile was plain, and smoth, and wondir soft,
All overspread with tapettes that Nature
Had made herself, covirid eke aloft
With bowis grene, the flouris for to cure,
That in ther beautie thei mai long endure.'--
The walks around were numerous and somewhat intricate; and whether fair Catherine Beauchamp knew or not the direction that her friends had taken, she certainly did not follow the path most likely to lead to where they really were; but, as she and Hal of Hadnock walked along, she employed the time to the best advantage in carrying on the siege of his heart. He, for his part, humoured her to the full, having a firm conviction that it would be far better, both for Sir Henry Dacre and herself, that the imperfect marriage between them should be annulled at their mutual desire, than remain a chain upon them, only increasing in weight. It must not, indeed, be supposed that he took any very deep interest in the matter; but, as it fell in his way, he was willing enough to forward what he believed to be a noble-minded man's desire for emancipation from a very bitter sort of thraldom; and it is seldom an unpleasant or laborious task for a lighthearted man to sport with a capricious girl. Thus went he on, then, with that mixture of romantic gallantry and teasing jest, which is of all things the most exciting to the mind of a coquette, with sufficient admiration to soothe her vanity, but with not sufficient devotion ever to allow her to imagine that her triumph is complete. Neither did he let her gain any advantage; for, though it was evident that she clearly perceived the name he had assumed was not his own, he gave her no information, playing with her curiosity without gratifying it.
"But what makes you think," he asked, "that I am other than I seem? Why should I not be plain Hal of Hadnock, a poor gentleman from the Welsh marshes?"
"No, no, no," she said, "it is not so. A thousand things prove it: first, manners, appearance, dress. Why, are you not as fine as my good cousin a dozen times removed, Sir Simeon of Roydon, the pink of court gallants?"
"And yet I have heard that he is not as rich as an abbot," replied Hal of Hadnock.
"No, in truth," answered Catherine; "he is as poor as a verger; and, like the curlew, carries all his fortune on his back, I believe."
"I suspect not his own fortune only," rejoined her companion, "but a part of other men's."
"But then your knightly spurs, good sir," continued Kate, returning to the point; "you must be Sir Hal of Hadnock at the least. Now I never heard of that name amongst our chivalry; and I am deep read in the rolls of knighthood."
"Oh, I am newly dubbed," replied the gentleman, laughing; "but you shall know all some day, lady fair."