"I mind it well," said she.
"Have you a remembrance of the air, my dear? How did it go?" and I whistled a stave.
"Ay, even so. You have a good ear, John."
"I think, too, that I have mind of a verse or so," said I. "There was one which ran like this:
"'And if he were a soldier gay
And tarried from the town,
And sought in wars, through death and scars,
To win for him renown,
I'd place his colours in my breast
And ride by moor and lea,
And win his side, there to abide
And bear him company.'
Was it not so?"
"Yes," she said, smiling; "how well you remember, John."
"And there was a refrain, too," I went on.
"'For sooth a maid, all unafraid,
Should by her lover be,
With wile and art to cheer his heart,
And bear him company.'"
Marjory blushed. "Why do you remind me of my old song?" she said. "It pains me, for I used to sing it ere the trouble came upon us, and when we were all as happy as the day was long."