He told her. Keep straight away from the moon.
It was just there: he pointed with his hand.
As long as the moon held she could not fail to hit
it. Beyond the pine-wood there was an open shaw;
she could keep through that, then cross a piece of
common with bracken cut and stacked. Afterwards
came a very deep wood, full of beech-timber. You
crossed a brook at Four Mile Bottom,—you
could hear the ripples of the ford a half-mile away,—and
held straight for the top of Galley Hill. After
that the trees began again, oaks mostly. A tall
clump of firs would lead you there. Beyond them
was the yew-tree wood. The precinct was there.
But the moon was her best lamp. He was talking
to her in language which she understood better than
he. She could never miss the road now.
She thanked him. Then came a pause.
“I must go, Vincent,” said she. “You
have been my friend this night. I will tell my
lord when I see him. He will reward you better
than I.”
“He can never reward me!” cried Vincent.
She sighed and turned to go, but he started forward
and held her with both hands at her waist. She
seemed so like a boy of his age, it gave him courage.
“Isoult,” he stammered, “Isoult!”
“Yes, Vincent,” says she.
“Are you going indeed?”
“I must go at once.”
“Shall I see you again?”
“Ah, I cannot tell you that.”
“Do you care nothing?”
“I think you have been my friend. Yes,
I should like to see you again, some day.”
“Oh, Isoult—”
“What?”
“Will you give me something?”
“What have I, Vincent? If I could you know
that I would.”
He had her yet by the waist. There was no blinking
what he wanted. Isoult stood.
“You may kiss me there,” she said with
the benignity of a princess, and gave him her hand.
The boy’s mouth was very near her cheek.
Something—who knows what?— checked
him. He let go her waist, dropped on his knees
and kissed the hand, turned little prince in his turn.
Isoult was as near loving him then as she could ever
be. This was no great way, perhaps, but near
enough for immediate purposes. When Vincent got
up she gave him her hand frankly to hold. They
were two children now, and like two children kissed
each other without under-thought. Then, as she
sped away from the moon, Vincent crept back to his
cold bed with an armful of black hair.
BOY AND GIRL
The woodland Mass in the yew-tree glade was served
next morning by an acolyte in cassock and cotta.
The way of it was this. Alice of the Hermitage
was setting the altar in the light of a cloudy dawn,
when she heard a step and the rustling of branches
behind her. Looking quickly round, she saw a
boy come out of the thicket, who stood echoing her
wonder. He was a dark-haired slim lad, in leather
