“Thereafter I mastered my fear of my mistress and went to that dale day by day, and learned of the carline; though at whiles I wondered when my mistress would let loose her fury upon me; for I called to mind the threat she had made to me on the day when she offered up my white goat.  And I made up my mind to this, that if she fell upon me with deadly intent I would do my best to slay her before she should slay me.  But so it was, that now again she held her hand from my body, and scarce cast a word at me ever, but gloomed at me, and fared as if hatred of me had grown great in her heart.

“So the days went by, and my feet had worn a path through the wilderness to the Dale of Lore, and May had melted into June, and the latter days of June were come.  And on Midsummer Day I went my ways to the dale according to my wont, when, as I as driving on my goats hastily I saw a bright thing coming over the heath toward me, and I went on my way to meet it, for I had no fear now, except what fear of my mistress lingered in my heart; nay, I looked that everything I saw of new should add some joy to my heart.  So presently I saw that it was a weaponed man riding a white horse, and anon he had come up to me and drawn rein before me.  I wondered exceedingly at beholding him and the heart leaped within me at his beauty; for though the carline had told me of the loveliness of the sons of men, that was but words and I knew not what they meant; and the others that I had seen were not young men or goodly, and those last, as I told thee, I could scarce see their faces.

“And this one was even fairer than the dead woman that I had buried, whose face was worn with toil and trouble, as now I called to mind.  He was clad in bright shining armour with a gay surcoat of green, embroidered with flowers over it; he had a light sallet on his head, and the yellow locks of his hair flowed down from under, and fell on his shoulders:  his face was as beardless as thine, dear friend, but not clear brown like to thine but white and red like a blossom.”

Ralph spake and said:  “Belike it was a woman;” and his voice sounded loud in the quiet place.  She smiled on him and kissed his cheek, and said:  “Nay, nay, dear Champion, it is not so.  God rest his soul! many a year he has been dead.”

Said Ralph:  “Many a year! what meanest thou?” “Ah!” she said, “fear not! as I am now, so shall I be for thee many a year.  Was not thy fear that I should vanish away or change into something unsightly and gruesome?  Fear not, I say; am I not a woman, and thine own?” And again she flushed bright red, and her grey eyes lightened, and she looked at him all confused and shamefaced.

He took her face between his hands and kissed her over and over; then he let her go, and said:  “I have no fear:  go on with thy tale, for the words thereof are as thy kisses to me, and the embracing of thine hands and thy body:  tell on, I pray thee.”  She took his hand in hers and spake, telling her tale as before.