“Tread softly, gossip, or you will alarm them,” said Sommers, in a low tone.
They turned the corner of the cloisters; and there, near the entrance of the chapel, stood the youthful pair—the Fair Geraldine half reclining upon the earl's breast, while his arm encircled her slender waist.
“There!” whispered the jester, chuckling maliciously, “there! did I speak falsely—eh, gossip?”
Richmond laid his hand upon his sword.
“Hist!” said the jester; “hear what the Fair Geraldine has to say.”
“We must meet no more thus, Surrey,” she murmured:
“I feel I was wrong in granting the interview, but I could not help it. If, when a few more years have flown over your head, your heart remains unchanged.”
“It will never change!” interrupted Surrey. “I here solemnly pledge my troth to you.”
“And I return the pledge,” replied the Fair Geraldine earnestly. “I vow to be yours, and yours only.”
“Would that Richmond could hear your vow!” said Surrey; “it would extinguish his hopes.”