"Thither I cannot go unless the King of France grants me my father's
rights and estates!" he said, with a certain sternness in his tone.

"Let me look at your hand," she answered, with a gentle inclination
of her fair head, from which the lace that had shrouded it now
streamed back in the cool wind of evening.

Stopping Darnaway, the young Earl gave the girl his hand, and the
white palfrey came to rest close beneath the shoulder of the black war
charger.

"To-morrow," she said, looking at his palm, "to-morrow you will be
Duke of Touraine. I promise it to you by my power of divination. Does
that satisfy you?"

"I fear you are a witch, or else a being compound of rarer elements
than mere flesh and blood," said the Earl.

"Is that a spirit's hand," she said, laughing lightly and giving her
own rosy fingers into his, "or could even the Justicer of Galloway
find it in his heart to burn these as part of the body of a witch?"

She shuddered and pretended to gaze piteously up at him from under the
long lashes which hardly raised themselves from her cheek.

"Spirit-slender, spirit-white they are," he replied, "and as for being
the fingers of a witch--doubtless you are a witch indeed. But I will
not burn so fair things as these, save as it might be with the
fervours of my lips."