too? . . . yes, yes--I see now--outlaws, and your wound got in the
struggle." . . . She turned toward the tree. . . "Ah! I have it:--you
are paroled to silence until the sun has risen above the highest
branch . . . what? . . . and also must remain here until then? . . . I
see--it was that or die . . . no? . . . Oh! that or be bound? . . .
well, truly the knaves were wondrous courteous!" . . . She studied De
Lacy's face a moment--then sat down. "Would you like company?" she
asked.

Would he like company! Her company!

She laughed gayly--though a bit of color touched her cheek.

"Thank you," she said, "I can read your countenance better than your
bows."

Then suddenly his face grew grave and he motioned no.

"Yes, and I can understand that, too," she smiled, "and thank you for
it. It may be a trifle uncommon to sit here in the depths of Windsor
forest with a man I never met . . . never even saw until last
night . . . and who has never spoken a single word to me . . . yet"
(glancing at the sun) "the time is not long and . . . the path is
rarely traveled."

He smiled--but the concern lingered in his eyes and he shook his head
questioningly.

"Nay, sir, do you not see your very urging me to go proves me safe in
staying?"