Part 10 (2/2)

”What of James of Avondale when knights are being judged?” said Sholto, with a kind of gloomy satisfaction, boyish and characteristic; ”he at least looked often enough in your direction to prove that he did not agree with you about the lack of the beautiful lady.”

At this Maud Lindesay elevated her pretty nostrils yet further into the air. ”James of Avondale, indeed--” she said, ”he is not to be compared either for dignity or strength with the Earl himself, nor yet with many others whom I know of lesser estate.”

”Sholto MacKim,” cried the clear piping voice of the little Margaret, ”how in the world am I to keep hold of your hair if you shake and jerk your head about like that? If you do not keep still I will send for that pretty boy over there in the scarlet vest, or ask my cousin James to ride with me. And he will, too, I know--for he likes bravely to be beside my dear, sweet Maud Lindesay.”

After this Sholto held his head erect and forth-looking, as if he had been under the inspection of the Earl and were doubtful of his weapons pa.s.sing muster.

There came a subtle and roguish smile into the eyes of Mistress Maud Lindesay as she observed the stiffening of Sholto's bearing.

”Who were those others of humbler estate?” he queried, sending his words straight out of his lips like pellets from a pop-gun, being in fear lest he should unsettle the hand of the small tyrant upon his hair.

”Your brother Laurence for one,” replied the minx, for no other purpose than to see the flush of disappointment tinge his brow with sudden red.

”I wish my brother Laurence were in--” he began. But the girl interrupted him.

”Hush,” she said, holding up her finger, ”do not swear, especially at a son of the holy church. Ha, ha! A fit clerk and a reverend will they make of Laurence MacKim! I have heard of your ploys and ongoings, both of you. Think not I am to be taken in by your meekness and pretence of dutiful service. You go athwart the country making love to poor maidens, and then, when you have won their hearts, you leave them lamenting.”

And she affected to heave a deep sigh.

”Ah, Maudie,” said the little girl, reproachfully, ”now you are being bad. I know it by your voice. Do not be unkind to my Sholto, for his hair is so pleasant to touch. I wish you could feel it. And, besides, when you are wicked to him, you make him jerk, and if he does it often I shall have to send him away.”

The Maid of Galloway was indeed entirely correct. For Maud Lindesay, accustomed all her life to the homage of many men, and having been brought up in a great castle in an age when chivalrous respect to women had not yet given place to the licence of the Revival of Letters, practised irritation like a fine art. She was brimful of the superfluity of naughtiness, yet withal as innocent and playful as a kitten.

But Sholto, both from a feeling that he belonged to an inferior rank, and also being exceedingly conscious of his youth, chose to be bitterly offended.

”You mistake me greatly, Mistress Lindesay,” he said in an uneven schoolboy's voice, to which he tried in vain to add a touch of worldly coldness; ”I do not make love to every girl I meet, nor yet do I love them and leave them as you say. You have been most gravely misinformed.”

”Nay,” tripped the maid of honour, with arch quickness of reply, ”I said not that you were naturally equipped for such amorous quests. I meant to designate your brother Laurence. 'Tis pity he is to be a clerk. Though one day doubtless he will make a very proper and consolatory father confessor--”

Sholto walked on in silence, his eyes fixed before him, and in such high dudgeon that he pretended to be unconscious of what the girl had been saying. Then the little Margaret began to prattle in her pretty way, and the youth answered ”yes” and ”no” sulkily and at random, his thoughts being alternately on the doing of some great deed to make his mistress repent her cruelty, and on a leap into the castle pool, in whose unsunned deeps he might find oblivion from all the flouts of hard-hearted beauty.

Maud kept her eyes upon him, a smile of satisfaction on her lips so long as he was not looking at her. She liked to play her fish as satisfactorily as she could before gra.s.sing it at her feet.

”Besides, it will do him good,” she said to herself. ”He hath lately won the gold badge of archery, and, like all men, is apt to think overmuch of himself at such times. Moreover, I can always make it up to him after--if I like, that is.”

But as often as Sholto dropped a little behind, keeping pace with Maid Margaret's slower palfrey so that Maud was sure he looked at her, the pretty coquette cast down her eyes in affected humility and sorrow.

Whereupon immediately Sholto felt his resentment begin to melt like snow off a dike top when the sun of April is s.h.i.+ning.

But neither of them uttered another word till they reached the drawbridge which crossed the nether moat and conducted to the n.o.ble gateway of Thrieve. Then, at the foot of the stairway to the hall, Sholto, having swung the little maid from her pony, after a moment of sullen hesitation went across to a.s.sist Mistress Maud Lindesay out of her saddle.

As he lifted the girl down his heart thundered tumultuously in his breast, for he had never so touched her before. Her lashes rested modestly on her cheek--long, black, and upcurled a little at the ends.

As her foot touched the ground, she raised them a moment, and looked at him with one swift flash of violet eyes made darker by the seclusion from which she had released them. Then in another moment she had dropped them again, detaching them from his with a mighty affectation of confusion.

”Please, Sholto, I am sorry. I did not mean it.” She spoke like a child that is sorry for a fault and is fearful of being chidden.

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