Edgar smiled and made as though to pass on without speaking.
"Answer me, sir, for I have a mind to go my own way now that we are free from Sir John and that odious Geoffrey."
"Thou wilt not disobey," replied Edgar quietly.
"Oho!--that is soon decided. Dost see yon hill, Edgar Wintour? I am tired of trotting along this dusty lane, and have made up my mind to a gallop across these fields to its summit. The view is doubtless charming. Come, Gertrude--let us see who will reach it first."
"Maiden, do no such thing," cried Edgar, quickly grasping the young girl's bridle as she turned her steed.
Quick as lightning Beatrice gave his horse a sharp cut with her whip, and the animal plunged so violently that Edgar involuntarily let go his hold.
With a ringing laugh of triumph, Beatrice urged on her steed, bounded across the low bushes which bordered the roadway, and made straight for the hill.
Stung to anger at being tricked, and still more so at sundry sly chuckles from one or two of the men-at-arms, Edgar gave instant chase and galloped furiously after. But though he did not spare his steed, the fugitive was not overtaken until she had reached the summit of the hill and had drawn rein to admire the prospect.
"'Tis fine, is it not, Edgar?" enquired the young girl, flushed and sparkling with the sharp gallop, as she pretended to admire the prospect while glancing furtively at the young esquire.
"I will not have it, Beatrice," cried Edgar, as he grasped her bridle with a grip that he did not mean to be shaken off. "What catastrophe may I not have to report to Sir John if thou goest on so wilfully?"