And so she kissed the old dame, and bade her farewell, refusing at the same time to have the escort of the small maid across the meadows to the town.
All the temporary annoyance of the morning was now over and forgotten; she was wholly pleased to have had this interview, and to have heard minutely of all the great doings in London. She walked quickly; a careless gladness shone in her face; and she was lightly singing to herself, as she went along the well-beaten path through the fields,
"Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever."
But it was not in the nature of any complaint against the inconstancy of man that this rhyme had come into her head. Quite other thoughts came as well. At one moment she was saying to herself:
"Why, now, have I no spaniel-gentle with me to keep me company?"
And then the next minute she was saying with a sort of laugh:
"God help me, I fear I am none of the spaniel-gentle kind!"
But there was no deep smiting of conscience even when she confessed so much. Her face was radiant and content; she looked at the cattle, or the trees, or the children, as it chanced, as if she knew them all, and knew that they were friendly toward her; and then again the idle air would come into her brain:
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey, nonny, nonny!