“Nay, we will not hurry, we should not catch her now were we to try.”

“Why not, prithee?”

“Because—­because:  well, do not let us try,” he responded.  He had fully meant to have declared his love to her then, but that “because” stuck in his throat and blocked up all the other words he would have said.  The very intensity of his love hindered him from declaring his passion.

“What would Sir Thomas Stanley say if he knew Sir Everard were out courting with Meg?” wickedly suggested Dorothy.  “Would he not be in a towering rage?”

“There would be another tournament, maybe,” laughed Manners, not noticing the tender tone in which his fair companion had addressed him.

“Poor De la Zouch will remember his attempt to provide amusement for us for some time yet, I fear,” she continued coquettishly.  As her previous efforts had led to nothing, she had started afresh in another vein, mentally resolving that her companion was wretchedly slow in responding to her advances.

“I fear he will,” he replied; “but he is improving, I hear.  Sir Benedict seems to understand his case.”

“He is like to be scarred for life, though,” Dorothy returned.  “Poor Sir Henry.”

“You are sorry for him,” exclaimed Manners, who felt a little piqued at the tone of Dorothy’s reply, as, indeed, she intended he should be.

“Yes,” she said, “I am; very sorry.”

Manners bit his lip with annoyance, and made a foolish remark.

“Ha, he was your lover, perchance?” he said.

Dorothy flushed up hotly at the taunt.  Manners saw it, and would have done much to have recalled his hasty words, but they were gone.

“Master Manners!” Doll exclaimed, turning quickly round upon him; “I have spurned him; I have told him what I think.  Once and for ever have I refused him, and he knows I shall not change.”

“Fair Dorothy, sweet Dorothy,” Manners penitently exclaimed, dropping hurriedly upon his knees; “you shall be my queen.  Forgive me—­or condemn.  I sue you for your pardon, nor will I rise until I have gained it.”

“I will visit you to-morrow, then,” she said, turning to go.  “Farewell.”

Her voice was sweet again, and her brow was once more clear.

“You have forgiven me?” he cried, rising up and following her.

“What, sir knight?” she exclaimed, in feigned surprise, “risen, eh?  Upon my word, you are a fickle cavalier.  Well, I suppose I must extend my clemency to you.  At what price will you be willing to purchase my forgiveness?”

Manners was just going to tell her he would give himself and all he had to her if she would take it, but a sudden bend in the path brought them face to face with Margaret and Crowleigh, and the words were left unspoken.

It needed no question to inform Sir Everard that his friend’s mission was not accomplished yet.  He looked to see the sparkling eyes and a countenance beaming with delight, but was met by a face the very picture of disappointment; and shrewdly seeing that their company would be in no wise acceptable at such a juncture, he adroitly led Margaret on, still an interested listener to his wonderful tales, and intimating that they were returning to Haddon, they passed the lovers by.