‘Never!’ said Festus firmly. ‘Ah, you are one of the attendants at court perhaps, come on ahead to get the King’s chambers ready, in case Boney should not land?’
‘No,’ she said; ‘I am connected with the theatre, though not just at the present moment. I have been out of luck for the last year or two; but I have fetched up again. I join the company when they arrive for the season.’
Festus surveyed her with interest. ‘Faith! and is it so? Well, ma’am, what part do you play?’
‘I am mostly the leading lady—the heroine,’ she said, drawing herself up with dignity.
‘I’ll come and have a look at ye if all’s well, and the landing is put off—hang me if I don’t!—Hullo, hullo, what do I see?’
His eyes were stretched towards a distant field, which Anne Garland was at that moment hastily crossing, on her way from the hall to Overcombe.
‘I must be off. Good-day to ye, dear creature!’ he exclaimed, hurrying forward.
The lady said, ‘O, you droll monster!’ as she smiled and watched him stride ahead.
Festus bounded on over the hedge, across the intervening patch of green, and into the field which Anne was still crossing. In a moment or two she looked back, and seeing the well-known Herculean figure of the yeoman behind her felt rather alarmed, though she determined to show no difference in her outward carriage. But to maintain her natural gait was beyond her powers. She spasmodically quickened her pace; fruitlessly, however, for he gained upon her, and when within a few strides of her exclaimed, ‘Well, my darling!’ Anne started off at a run.
Festus was already out of breath, and soon found that he was not likely to overtake her. On she went, without turning her head, till an unusual noise behind compelled her to look round. His face was in the act of falling back; he swerved on one side, and dropped like a log upon a convenient hedgerow-bank which bordered the path. There he lay quite still.