At the verge of the flowery pastures that ring the isle of Thrieve, Sholto met Maud Lindesay, wandering alone. At sight of her he leaped from his horse, and, without salutation of spoken speech, walked by her side.
"How came you here alone?" he asked.
Maud made her little pouting movement of the lips, and kicked viciously at a tuft of grass.
"I forgot," she said hypocritically, "I ought to have asked leave of that noble knight the Captain of Thrieve. We poor maids must not breathe without his permission—no, nor even walk out to meet him when we are lonesome."
Maud Lindesay lifted her eyes suddenly and shot at Sholto a glance so disabling, that, alarmed for the consequences, she veiled her eyes again circumspectly by dropping her long lashes upon her cheek.
"Did you really come out to meet me, Maud?" cried Sholto, all the life flooding back into his cheeks, "in this do you speak truth and no mockery?"
"I only said that we maidens were so much in fear of our Castle Governor, that we must not walk out even to meet him!"
At this Sholto let his horse go where it would, and, as they were passing at the time through a coppice of hazel, he caught his saucy sweetheart quickly by the wrist.
"Mistress Maud, you shall not play with me!" he said; "you will tell me plainly—do you love me or do you not?"
Maud Lindesay puckered her pretty face as if she had been about to cry.