Mistress Maud Lindesay," said Sholto, with the last shreds of dignity
in his voice.

"I said not to me, but to _us_," she corrected, smiling; "but tell me
what think you of this appearance which has so startled our Margaret.
Was it ghost or goblin or dream of the night? We have never had either
witch or warlock about the house of Thrieve since the old Abbot Gawain
laid the ghost of Archibald the Grim with four-and-forty masses, said
without ever breaking his fast, down there in the castle chapel."

"Nay, ask me not," answered Sholto, "I am little skilled in matters
spiritual. I should try sword point and arrowhead on such gentry, and
if these do them no harm, why then I think they will not distress me
much."

But all the same he said nothing to the girl about the red blood on
his sword or the splashed gouts on the steps of the staircase.

He followed Maud Lindesay into her chamber, and being arrived there,
lifted couch and all in his arms, with an ease born of long
apprenticeship to the forehammer. The girl regarded him with
admiration which she was careful not to dissemble.

"You are very strong," she said. Then, after a pause, she added,
"Margaret and I like strong men."

The heart of the youth was glad within him, thus to be called a man,
even though he kept saying over and over to himself: "She means it
not! She means it not! She loves the Earl! I know well she loves the
Earl!"