The Roundhead looked at the maid, then cast his eyes rapidly up and down the lane, and a twinkle of merriment shone in his glance.
“You are quite willing to compensate for your father’s sins—to render a service if I pledge myself to silence on his misdeeds.”
“I will do anything,” said the maid, eagerly.
The Roundhead bent low in his saddle, until his face was dangerously near that of his companion. There was a look in his eyes which caused the maid to blush a deeper red, and set her heart pit-a-pat with a thrill of strange and joyous excitement.
“Then kiss me,” was all he said.
The girl dropped her eyes a moment, then looked full into his, and finally raised her lips and kissed him.
“Now,” she said, “remember your promise, and keep it.”
Then with a mischievous nod of her head, that caused her curls to dance in the sun, she skipped out of his reach, and ran up the lane towards the farm.
He turned the horse as though to pursue her, but contented himself with calling after her, “Tell your mother not to trouble about the grey mare and the sheep. I will come for them myself—another day.”
He doffed his hat, and the girl waved her hand; and then the Roundhead trotted off to explain in some cunning fashion how he had foolishly met with an accident, and if his colonel had no objection he would go for the grey mare and the sheep another day. The young man was a favourite officer with his superiors, and his colonel had no objection whatever, so the farmer heard no more about his attack upon the Parliamentary forager.