“Poor child!” thought Sir Mark; and the desire was very strong upon him to just bend down and kiss her. But he resisted the temptation bravely, his strength of mind being fortified by the knowledge that they were well in sight of the latticed windows.
A minute later, and they had to go through a narrow path, winding through and overarched by broad-leaved nut-stubbs, which formed quite a bower belaced with golden sunbeams, that seemed to fall in drops upon the enchanter’s night-shade, the briony, and patches of long thick grass.
“Is this the way to the simple-garden, Mistress Anne?” he said, playing with the hand that lay upon his arm.
“Yes, Sir Mark,” she faltered; “it is close at hand.”
It might have been a mile away as far as seeing what went on in the nutwalk was concerned; and feeling this, and a very tender sensation of pitying sorrow for the weak girl at his side, Sir Mark thought that to yield to the temptation would be only kindness, and an act that would solace the poor child, so he said with a sigh:
“Yes, Mistress Anne, I must away in a couple of hours.”
“So soon?” she whispered.
“Yes; so soon.”
And then somehow, sweet Mistress Anne, in her girlish innocency, thought not of resistance, as her companion drew her softly nearer and nearer to him, one of his arms passing round her slight waist, so that she hung upon it, with her head thrown slightly back. Her veined lids drooped over her eyes, her lips were half parted to show her white teeth, and the lips themselves were red and moist as her soft perfumed breath. For she was very young, and did not know what it was to be taken in the arms of a man, saving upon such an occasion as that when Gil had held her and half borne her along. It was quite natural, then, that when Sir Mark’s lips drew nearer and pressed hers, at first so softly that a gnat would have hardly felt the touch, then harder, more closely, and ended by joining them tightly, that she should not shrink from the contact, but, though motionless, seem to passively return kiss for kiss—a score of kisses joined in one.
This one might have lasted an hour or a moment—Sir Mark did not know. All he knew was that for the time being Mace Cobbe was forgotten, and that the kiss was very nice. In fact, it seemed to him that he was just in the middle of it when an excited voice broke it right in half by exclaiming—