"Because I hold men should keep faith, even princes," I answered, "and I will make him fulfil his word, up to the hilt—I would say down to the point, which I keep until it is earned." And I felt for the fragment of His Highness's sword in the place where I had it safe hidden. And then I drew rein on Charley, catching at my comrade's rein with the other hand. "O Ned!" I cried, "how am I to do all this, if you will leave me? Take me and your story to my father, and among us we shall find a way."
In the pale moonlight I could see his pale face, and on it I read the bitterness and sorrow of a conflict that he deemed finished.
"Sweet mistress," he said, "you must not tempt me. This thing is the fault of no man, but the hand of fate is heavy upon me. Since we were children together, it is somewhere written that only in danger and disgrace may I meet you. I do believe that in your heart you know much that, but for what has happened this day to part us, I would say to you. I will not say it, and because I will not, I must leave you when I have brought you to your father. Do not urge me again."
"If all the world cried out upon Philippa," I replied, feeling in my heart as those must feel who take their lives in their hands to carry through some desperate enterprise, or to die in default of success, "and would have her guilty of all the crimes a woman could guiltily do, I would laugh them all to scorn while you held me innocent and dear."
"Comfort you might find in my faith," he said, "even as I find much in yours. But you would not company with me, nor let your name go with mine in men's mouths; and much less would you wed me before your name was cleared. It is perhaps the last time we shall speak together, little Phil, and my despair shall bring me one good thing: because I have no hope, I will tell you now very fully and frankly what has been in my mind to say since my weight on a horse's back was less than is now your own. When I left Oxford to come into the west in those days of Monmouth's trouble, my tongue was ready and my heart hot to tell you my love, and, having told, to ask yours, and with it the sweetest wife in all England. Now, I must tell and not ask. I say, then, Philippa, that I love you, that I shall love you, and that I have loved you, for how long it is hard to know, but truly I believe my love began when you sat in the dust and looked to me for comfort, stretching up your little arms, tremulous and appealing. Ah!" he cried, "with what an urgent and tender clinging they held me as we fled from pursuing Betty."
"I did then think, Ned," I murmured, "that the little horse had wings, and that we fled together from Betty and all troubles forever."
"It was only Betty then," he answered, with a little laugh that hurt me to hear.
"And it is no worse than Betty now, dear," I cried, "if you will but keep me with you. I have but just gotten you again. Three years is very long and lonesome. Do not leave me."
Our horses were standing, and the moon showed me his face and the great struggle that there was in him between tenderness of love and insistence of duty. And I saw the softness die out of his countenance, and the features grow set in resolve.
"I forget," he said, drawing the reins short through his fingers. "Let us press on; 't is six good miles yet to Drayton." At which his horse broke into a canter.