"'Tis naught, dear Guy, believe me!" she said. Then, in pleading tones, she continued: "Didst not agree to trust thy lady, dear?"
The young knight passed his hand over his eyes and straightened himself resolutely in his saddle.
"E'en to the death, love. Lead on! I shall not falter!"
They trotted forward through a now silent street to the bridge, and soon found themselves enveloped in the darkness and assailed by the countless odors of London Bridge. From time to time they crossed a path of moonlight, and here Phœbe would smile into the eyes of her still much-puzzled lover and murmur words of encouragement.
Before they reached Southwark, there rang out behind them the sound of hoofs upon the stones of the bridge.
"Can these be your father's minions, think you?" said Sir Guy.
"Nay!" Phœbe exclaimed. "Rest assured, they were scattered too far to dog our steps again to-night."
They emerged some moments later on the Southwark side and saw the pillory towering ahead of them.
"How far shall we fare to-night, love?" asked the knight.
"To Newington on horseback," Phœbe replied, "and then—well, then shalt thou see more faring."