Little Giles lived within the precincts of a prison, but he was a bright-faced, brave-hearted little lad, whose merry voice had not learned the nasal drawl of his father's friends, and who could not make shift to subdue his natural gaiety of disposition in the way it was desired of him. Perhaps his mother secretly encouraged him to be blithe; perhaps he watched the cavalier gentlemen with too much satisfaction and admiration to be a very staunch Puritan himself. And of late, since that little cavalier maiden with the big brown eyes, the rosy lips and the golden cloud of hair had come into the place, he had thought and dreamed of little else than of being her faithful follower and esquire all the days of his life.
He knew that her father was one of his father's prisoners; and he sought every opportunity of making an errand into that part of the prison where the cavalier knight lay, and of trying to see him whenever it was possible. Giles was a handy little lad, and very willing and obliging; so that he was sometimes sent on errands by his father or his underlings, and not infrequently took the prisoners their food; but some other and older person invariably accompanied him to lock and unlock the doors, though he assisted by taking in the rations.
Just now and again the turnkey would pass on to another room for a minute or so, leaving Giles in the one before; and thus he was able very occasionally to comfort the heart of some captive by a whispered hint as to what was going on without, or by a message from some loved one hungering after news. No one suspected how the little fellow longed to help and comfort the prisoners, or how his kind heart was moved by any sight of suffering and sorrow.
But his little lady filled his thought now almost to the exclusion of all else. He knew that she came daily to the green which lay betwixt the fortress and the town, and he was ever on the watch for her, counting it a red-letter day in his calendar when she should bestow a smile upon him—still more when she should pause to speak a word to him.
She was never alone. Some servant was always in attendance. But upon this bright June morning she came out with only a lad following her, and in her hand she held a small bow and some arrows.
She did not seem to notice Giles, and shot her shafts here and there, the boy running to pick them up. Giles would have loved to fill this office himself; but the little lady gave him no encouragement, and he stood shy and silent a little behind her.
Suddenly she shot an arrow more strongly than its fellows, and it fell behind a low wall which guarded a small garden belonging to the chaplain of the prison.
"Go, boy," she said, "you can climb the wall and find the arrow."
He ran to do her bidding, and was quickly lost to sight behind the wall. There was nobody on all the green but the two children. The little maid turned upon Giles and beckoned him to her side. With an eagerly flushed face he came, quivering all over.