HOW MAJOR D'ARCY RECOVERED HIS YOUTH
So the Major kissed my lady's hand, kissed it not "on one extreme finger-tip," but holding it in masterful clasp, kissed it on rosy palm and dimpled knuckles, kissed it again and again with all the ardour of a boy of twenty; and my lady sighed and—let him kiss his fill.
She wore her rustic attire but her simple gown was enriched here and there, with the daintiest of lace as was her snowy mob-cap; and surely never did rustic beauty blush more rosily or look with eyes more shy than she when at last he raised his head:
"Good morrow to your worship!" said she softly, "I trust your honour slept well?"
"No!" he answered, speaking with a strange, new vehemence, "I scarce did close my eyes all night for thought of you——"
"Of me?"
"And of my—my folly! I looked for you this morning—I wished to tell you ... I ... I——" Seeing him thus at a loss, my lady smiled a little maliciously, then hasted to his relief:
"This morning?" said she gently, "I was making more butter for my poor folk—with the aid of my lord of Alvaston, Captain West, and Sir Jasper. But they proved so awkward with the churn that Sir Benjamin must needs show 'em how 'twas done. And after he made much of my rhubarb wine and would have them all taste it and insisted on the Captain drinking three glasses—poor man!"
"Wherefore 'poor'?"
"Why, sir, 'tis truly excellent wine—to look at, but I fear 'tis perhaps a trifle—sourish!" Here she laughed merrily, grew solemn and sighed, glancing shyly at the Major who stood, head bowed, fumbling with one of the gold buttons of the plum-coloured coat.