And she suddenly threw down her bow and clasped her little arms about Giles's neck, and pressed a kiss upon his lips.
Giles walked on air as he went homeward that day. Whatever else betided him his little lady had kissed him: she had given him a share of the love of her little childish heart.
* * * * *
Long years afterwards, when King Charles the Second had been brought triumphantly back to his kingdom, and exiled cavaliers were flocking joyfully to these shores, a beautiful lady, traveling with her husband and parents, stopped their coach at a certain town where a grim fortress dominated the dwellings of the inhabitants, and asked if one Giles Dorman lived within its walls.
Before long a fine and stalwart man appeared, at sight of whom the young and lovely lady leaped lightly from the coach, and with a little cry of recognition stepped forward with outstretched hands.
"Giles!" she exclaimed, "do you remember me?"
The man's bronzed face flushed from brow to chin. He slightly bent the knee as those soft white hands met his own, and he bowed over them and touched them with his lips.
A fine-looking gray-haired man now stepped up, and laid a hand on Giles's shoulder.
"I must speak the words of thanks my daughter is scarce able to do, and tell you that our errand to-day is to ask whether you will accept the post of steward upon her estate; as she says she knows she will never find anyone to serve her so faithfully and so well as Giles, the jailer's son, of whom she has never ceased to talk in terms of gratitude and praise."