“But, Audry,” Aline objected, “you yourself hate unfairness; and I cannot bear to think of Mistress Mowbray having her own way with those who are innocent.”
“I think, also, my princess enjoys some other kinds of fighting than with foils,” Ian interposed.
“Well, perhaps there’s a little bit in that too; my father was a fighter.”
“Somehow, little one,” said Ian, “I cannot help wishing you would leave it alone. I feel you would be better to have nothing to do with Newbiggin. It sounds very silly, but old Moll lives in Newbiggin, and I have a strange dread of it that I cannot explain.”
“That is very curious,” said Audry, “so have I. There has been something weighing on me like a bad dream for many days. I cannot explain it. Aline, dear, you let it alone.”
“I wish you two would not talk like that,” said Aline, “because I have had exactly the same feeling and it is most uncanny; but I cannot give up the Newbiggin people because of my feelings.”
“Come, let us have some fun,” she continued; “we look as if we had not a backbone among us.”
She went to the sword-chest as she spoke and took out a pair of foils. “Now, this will do my stiffness good, and Audry can act as umpire.”
They had a good deal of practice since the first encounter. Ian was really a brilliant master of the art and was much amused at the way that Aline had completely hoaxed him. Aline made rapid progress and Ian used to tell her that, child as she was, she would probably be able to account for a fairly average swordsman, so little was the art then understood in Scotland or England.
After a bout or two, they sat down to rest.