"No."

"Why?"

"Because the king's prisons will be guarded too closely. London gaols are not like Bedford Gaol."

"But why should you be put in a London gaol? You have done nothing."

"No; but then I shall tell nothing."

"Ah," I said, catching at her meaning. "Then you know where your sister is?"

I spoke the French tongue and in a low voice, but she looked around nervously, and although she gave no answer I knew I had surmised the truth.

"Do not expect the worst," I said, "G.o.d lives."

"Yes, G.o.d lives, and I do not fear. Let the king do his worst."

"He may not suspect."

"But he will. When it is told him that I have--have done these things for my sister's sake, he will ask me if I know where she is."

"And you will not tell?"

"I shall not tell where she is. Then he will make me bear her punishment."

"No, I will save you."

Again she looked at me searchingly, and I thought I saw a glad light leap into her eyes. After that she gave a quick glance round as if to be sure that no one listened.

"No, you cannot save me. I am my father's daughter. Even now I am told that the king is planning a terrible vengeance on those who took part in his father's death."

"I will save you," I said quietly, and confidently. "Do not fear.

Whatever happens do not fear. It may be that I shall not be able to do this in a day, or in a year--although I think I shall, but I will do it!"

"Why should you do it?"

"Because I love you."

I saw her start in her saddle, while her hands clutched her bridle rein nervously.

"That was why I was made so happy when I knew you had not married that man. I loved you even while I thought you were his wife. I fought against it because I thought it was a sin. But I could not help it. It never came to me until the other night when I saw them taking you to prison. I loved you before then although I did not know it. But I knew it then. I was glad when they left me alone in prison, because I could think of you. I did not sleep all the night. My heart was aching with love, all the more because I thought it was sinful, but I could not help loving you. Whatever happens now, I shall love you till I die."

"No! No!"

"Yes. I know you do not care for me; but I have my joy, the joy of loving."

"But you must not--it is wrong."

"Why is it wrong?"

"Because it is foolishness. I have taken another's burden--I may speak of it now. I have taken it willingly--gladly, but the burden means a curse to the one who bears it."

"Then I will try and bear some of the curse. Nay, do not deny me this. I must whether I will or not. Nothing you may say or do will alter me. I shall love you until I die. Besides, I am going to save you."

She did not say a word to this, but looked straight on. We were pa.s.sing through rich loamy lands. All around the trees were in the glory of their summer garb, while the birds sang l.u.s.tily from tree branch, and from hazel twig, but I do not think she either saw or heard.

I had eased my heart in speaking, and so I said no more for the time.

Never perhaps had a man a more doubtful future than I, and yet I could have shouted for very joy. She heard not the song of the skylark as it mounted to the heavens, nor the notes of the thrushes as they poured forth their music to G.o.d. But I did, and it seemed to me as though they were G.o.d's messengers telling me not to be afraid to love, for it was His will. That she could ever love me never came into my heart. How could she? What was I that a maid so peerless in her beauty, so glorious in her life of sacrifice for another, should ever think of me save as one who delighted to do her will? But I had the joy of loving, and although my love were full of pain, and unsatisfied yearnings, I still loved, and rejoiced in it.

"Why? Why?" I heard her whisper presently.

"Because G.o.d would have it so," I made answer. "He brought us together that I might love you, and serve you. And this I will do as long as I have life and thought!"

"But if I am thrown into prison?"

"I shall still love you. Prison is nothing. Love has broken the bolts from many a prison door before this, aye, and will again."

"But what is the use of loving me?"

"To serve you."

"But if you cannot serve me?"

"Then I shall still have the joy of loving you. This let me say: what will happen I know not, but you must not be afraid. I shall be always thinking about you--always."

"But the king may keep me in prison for years."

"He will not; but if he does, what then? He cannot live for ever.

Suppose we never meet again until we are old, I shall still love you."

Again there was a long silence between us, so long that I thought she had forgotten all I had said, so long that my mind had begun to wander.

I had begun to paint pictures of the future years when we, both grown old, had met again, and I had renewed my vows to her.

"But if I were to love another, and wed him, what then?" She said this suddenly, as though the thought had just occurred to her.

"I don't know," I said, and my heart grew cold as I spoke. "Of course you can never love me, but I shall pray G.o.d that you may never love another."

"Love is not for me," she said presently; and I knew she was thinking of what might happen to her.

"If I were only worthy it would be," I said. "I have learnt many things since that night before the trial in the Chapel of Herne. I have learnt that love laughs at the wisdom of the wise. Do you know that the walls of Bedford Gaol troubled me not one whit nor did the presence of the gaolers keep me from seeing your face. We are guarded now on the right hand, and on the left. We can hear the rough laugh of those who watch over us, can hear the clanking of their spurs, and the noise of horses'

hoofs, but for two hours I have never thought of them. We have our life in our own hearts--that is why."

After that we spoke not a word to each other throughout that long day, for our keepers began to guard us more jealously, especially when they discovered that they could not understand the language we spoke. My heart hungered for further speech with her, nevertheless I was happy, I had told her of my love and she was not angry; nay more, my promise to help her seemed to give her confidence.

I have thought since that never did a man tell a maid of his love under stranger circ.u.mstances. We were guarded on the right hand and the left, and we were being taken to judgement for having defied the laws of the land, yet had I chosen this time to declare the pa.s.sion of my heart. A few hours hence prison doors might clank upon us again, while perchance the anger of those in high places might be so aroused that it might be made impossible for us ever to set eyes on each other from that day.

Still I told her of my love, while my heart, in spite of pain, sang for very gladness. After all I was only a boy, and a boy whose heart is on fire recks not of circ.u.mstances.

I noticed presently that we were not going straight to London town, but that we took a road to the right. I asked the reason for this; but no reply was given me. For that matter, the constables on guard seemed as much in the dark as I, and this set me wondering all the more.