He bowed again.
"Seven," she counted; "the perfect number—stop with it."
He put his hand to his lips and shook his head in negation—then pointed to the sun and the tree, and shook his head again—then once more to the sun and slowly upward to the top of the tree, and nodded in affirmation.
She watched him with a puzzled frown.
"Are you trying to tell me why you do not speak?" she asked.
He nodded eagerly.
"Tell me again" … and she studied his motions carefully… "The sun and the tree—and the sun and the tree again … is that your meaning? … Ah! … the top of the tree … I think I am beginning to understand. … Where is your doublet?"
De Lacy pointed into the forest.
"And your bonnet? … with your doublet? … and your dagger? … gone with the others? … you mean your ring? and it went with them, too? … yes, yes—I see now—outlaws, and your wound got in the struggle." … She turned toward the tree… "Ah! I have it:—you are paroled to silence until the sun has risen above the highest branch … what? … and also must remain here until then? … I see—it was that or die … no? … Oh! that or be bound? … well, truly the knaves were wondrous courteous!" … She studied De Lacy's face a moment—then sat down. "Would you like company?" she asked.
Would he like company! Her company!