When Myles found himself alone with Lady Alice, he knew not where to
look or what to do, but twisted the piece of clematis which he still
held in and out more industriously than ever.

Lady Alice watched him with dancing eyes for a little while. "Haply thou
wilt spoil that poor vine," said she by-and-by, breaking the silence and
laughing, then turning suddenly serious again. "Didst thou hurt thyself
by thy fall?"

"Nay," said Myles, looking up, "such a fall as that was no great matter.
Many and many a time I have had worse."

"Hast thou so?" said the Lady Alice. "Thou didst fright me parlously,
and my coz likewise."

Myles hesitated for a moment, and then blurted out, "Thereat I grieve,
for thee I would not fright for all the world."

The young lady laughed and blushed. "All the world is a great matter,"
said she.

"Yea," said he, "it is a great matter; but it is a greater matter to
fright thee, and so I would not do it for that, and more."

The young lady laughed again, but she did not say anything further, and
a space of silence fell so long that by-and-by she forced herself to
say, "My cousin findeth not the ball presently."

"Nay," said Myles, briefly, and then again neither spoke, until
by-and-by the Lady Anne came, bringing the ball. Myles felt a great