And he sprang forward, while Mabel advanced rapidly towards him.
They met half-way, and Henry would have caught her in his arms, but she avoided him, exclaiming, in a tone of confusion and alarm, “Thank Heaven, I have found you, sire!”
“Thank Heaven, too, sweetheart!” rejoined Henry. “I would not hide when you are the seeker. So you know me—ha?
“I knew you at first,” replied Mabel confusedly. “I saw you at the great hunting party; and, once beheld, your majesty is not easily forgotten.”
“Ha! by Saint George! you turn a compliment as soothly as the most practised dame at court,” cried Henry, catching her hand.
“Beseech your majesty, release me!” returned Mabel, struggling to get free. “I did not follow you on the light errand you suppose, but to warn you of danger. Before you quitted my grandsire's cottage I told you this part of the forest was haunted by plunderers and evil beings, and apprehensive lest some mischance might befall you, I opened the window softly to look after you—”
“And you overheard me tell the Duke of Suffolk how much smitten I was with your beauty, ha?” interrupted the king, squeezing her hand—“and how resolved I was to make you mine—ha! sweetheart?”
“The words I heard were of very different import, my liege,” rejoined Mabel. “You were menaced by miscreants, who purposed to waylay you before you could reach your steed.”
“Let them come,” replied Henry carelessly; “they shall pay for their villainy. How many were there?”
“Two, sire,” answered Mabel; “but one of them was Herne, the weird hunter of the forest. He said he would summon his band to make you captive. What can your strong arm, even aided by that of the Duke of Suffolk, avail against numbers?”