‘Lost art thou, maiden,’ he said, as he stood beside her; ’where is thine home?’

‘I am at Greystone Priory,’ replied the girl.  ’I went out hawking to-day with the Mother Prioress and the rest.  My pony fell with me when we were riding after a heron.  No one saw me or heard me, and my pony galloped home.  I saw none of them, and I have been wandering miles and miles!  Oh take me back, good lad; the Mother Prioress will give thee—­’

‘’Tis too far to take thee back to-night,’ he said.  ’Thou must come with me to Hob Hogward, where Doll will give thee supper and bed, and we will have thee home in the morning.’

‘I never lay in a hogward’s house,’ she said primly.

’Belike, but there be worse spots to be harboured in.  Here, I must carry thee over the burn, it gets wider below!  Nay, ’tis no use trying to leap it in the dark, thou wouldst only sink in.  There!’

And as he raised her in his arms, the touch of her garment was delicate, and she on her side felt that his speech, gestures and touch were not those of a rustic shepherd boy; but nothing was said till he had waded through the little narrow stream, and set her down on a fairly firm clump of grass on the other side.  Then she asked, ‘What art thou, lad?—­Who art thou?’

‘They call me Hal,’ was the answer; ’but this is no time for questions.  Look to thy feet, maid, or thou wilt be in a swamp-hole whence I may hardly drag thee out.’

He held her hand, for he could hardly carry her farther, since she was almost as tall as himself, and more plump; and the rest of the conversation for some little time consisted of, ‘There!’ ‘Where?’ ‘Oh, I was almost down!’ ’Take heed; give me thy other hand!  Thou must leap this!’ ‘Oh! what a place!  Is there much more of it?’ ‘Not much!  Come bravely on!  There’s a good maid.’  ’Oh, I must get my breath.’  ’Don’t stand still.  That means sinking.  Leap!  Leap!  That’s right.  No, not that way, turn to the big stair.’  ‘Oh—­h!’ ‘That’s my brave wench!  Not far now.’  ‘I’m down, I’m down!’ ’Up!  Here, this is safe!  On that white stone!  Now, here’s sound ground!  Hark!’ Wherewith he emitted a strange wild whoop, and added, ’That’s Hob come out to call me!’ He holloaed again.  ’We shall soon be at home now.  There’s Mother Doll’s light!  Her light below, the star above,’ he added to himself.

By this time it was too dark for the two young people to see more than dim shapes of one another, but the boy knew that the hand he still held was a soft and delicate one, and the girl that those which had grasped and lifted her were rough with country labours.  She began to assert her dignity and say again, ’Who art thou, lad?  We will guerdon thee well for aiding me.  The Lord St. John is my father.  And who art thou?’

‘I?  Oh, I am Hob Hogward’s lad,’ he answered in an odd off-hand tone, before whooping again his answer to the shouts of Hob, which were coming nearer.