“Lady,” said the old man, “these are the courteous stranger knights who came hither as the guests of Sir Walter de Selby.”
“In the name of Sir Walter de Selby, do I welcome them then,” said the lady, with a modest air. “Welcome, brave knights, to the Castle. But,” added she, hesitatingly, “in especial am I bound to greet with mine own guerdon of good thanks him who is called Sir Patrick Hepborne, to whose gentle care I am so much beholden for the safety of my favourite hawk.”
“Proudly do I claim these precious thanks as mine own rich treasure, most peerless lady,” exclaimed Sir Patrick, stepping forward with ardour. “Blessed be my good stars, which have thus so felicitously brought me, when least expecting such bliss, into the very presence of a demoiselle whose perfections have already been so largely rung in mine ears, short as hath yet been my time in Norham.”
“Methinks, Sir Knight,” replied the lady, in some confusion, “methinks that thy time, albeit short, might have been better spent in Norham than in listening to idle tales of me. Will it [[39]]please thee to take this way? Sir Walter, ere this, doth look for thee in the banquet-hall.”
“Lady, the tale of thy charms was music to me,” said Sir Patrick; “yet hath it been but as some few notes of symphony to lure me to a richer banquet. Would that the gentle zephyrs, which do now chase the fleecy cloud from yonder moon, might unveil that face. Yet, alas! I have already seen but too much of its charms for my future peace.”
“Nay, Sir Knight,” replied the lady, “this fustian is but thrown away on me. Thy friend, perhaps, may talk more soberly—Shall I be thy guide, chevalier?” added she, addressing Assueton.
“No, no, no,” interrupted Hepborne, springing to her side; “I’ll go with thee, lady, though thou should’st condemn me to eternal silence.”
“Here, then, lieth thy way,” said the lady, hurrying towards the bridge communicating with the entrance to the keep; “and here come the lacqueys with lights.”
The squire, who had gone in before, now appeared at the door, with attendants and torches. Hepborne anxiously hoped to be blessed with a more satisfactory view of the lady’s face than accident had before given him; but as she approached the lights, she shrouded up her head more closely in her hood, yet not so entirely as to prevent her eyes from enjoying some stolen glances at the noble figure of Sir Patrick. She had no sooner got within the archway of the great door, however, than she took a lamp from an attendant, and, making a graceful obeisance to the two friends, disappeared in a moment, leaving Sir Patrick petrified with vexation and disappointment.