"Why then," she sighed, "how may I gainsay thee!" and she hid her face against him once more. But, as he turned to leave the arbour, she stayed him:
"I prithee, now, whither dost take me, Beltane?"
"To the minster—anywhere, so that I find good Friar Martin."
"Nay, prithee, Beltane, prithee set me down!"
"What would'st, my Helen?"
"Loose me and shalt see."
So Beltane, sighing, let her go, whereupon she took a small silver whistle that hung at her girdle and sounded it.
"Ah—what do you?" he questioned.
"Wait!" said she, roguish-eyed.
And in a while came the sound of steps from the outer garden, and looking thither, Beltane beheld a tall man in cloak of blue camlet, and when this man drew near, behold! it was Giles.