Chapter IV

The exchange of confidences between the two young men lasted for a few moments more. Then Ashley, examining the fastenings of his sword belt, exclaimed:

"Assuredly the Lady Barbara must arrive soon, whatever the state of the roads may be. I will go and look to the men and horses. Doubtless the former are as mad as their masters, and, doubtless, too, they have consumed as much of Marmaduke's heady wine."

Lindley, left to himself, drew a letter from some place not far distant from his heart and read it.

It was written in a clerkly hand, and was, for the first part, clearly a dictation.

I regret to say, my dear Cecil, that I can give you no better
word from my daughter, Judith. She declares roundly that she
will have nothing to do with you, that she will not listen to
your suit, and she commands me to advise you to put her out of
your head for all time. I cannot, as you know, say aught against
my girl.

"I should not let him if he would."

In her duty to me she is all that I could ask, but in every
other respect her madcap moods seem but to grow upon her. She
spends much of her time shut up in her own room, and I have
discovered quite recently that she rides much alone--through our
own forests only, however. I would not for the world convey to
you the idea that Judith is indiscreet. She has stripped from
the trappings of her horse every sign of our name and
station--or so the stable boys have reported to me. And not ten
days since one of the maids ran to me in a great pother and told
me that Mistress Judith was stamping about her chamber, behind
locked doors, conversing at the top of her voice with herself or
with the empty air. When I took her to task on the subject she
explained that she was merely rehearsing to join some play
actors she had seen performing on the common. Neither locks nor
bars will hold her, for I have tried both. I would not dare to
coerce her in any smallest degree, for I know not what might
happen. So I hope you will see, my dear Cecil, that it would be
indeed wise if you could take her advice and put her out of your
mind. I fear that, as she says, she has given me all the love of
which she is capable.

From this point the letter ran on in the same hand, but in another vein.

So far, dear coz, I've written according to my revered father's
words. You know I'm the only scholar in the family. The pen fits
his hand but sadly, while every implement of love and war rests
easily in mine. With the foils I---- But, alas and alack, you
care not for tales of that sort. I hear you say: "Fie, fie, Ju!
Why play with a man's toys?" To return to the subject in hand.
Will you put me quite out of your mind and thoughts? Can you? If
so, I pray you do so. For I love you not at all. 'Tis so absurd
of you to want to marry the little red-haired termagant you used
to play with. And believe me, I'm naught now save a big
red-haired termagant. And I love you not one whit more than I
did in the old days when I used to hate you. Perhaps 'twould be
folly to say that I never will love you. I might meet you
somewhere, at some odd chance, and find that you were the man
for my inmost heart. And at that same meeting you might find
that you loved me not at all. You think, doubtless, that I know
nothing of love, and yet I do know that it lies all in the
chance of meeting. If I might meet you in my mood of to-day I'd
hate you, whereas to-morrow I might love you. To defend myself
against my father's charges I'll not try. Yet why should I not
ride alone? And am I alone with my beloved Star? Ay, even though
it is only a black star between two starry eyes blacker than
night? Why should I not have stripped my father's name and rank
from my horse's trappings when I go abroad? Suppose I should
join the play actors--and they do tempt me sorely--why should my
father's name and rank be known and defamed? And, truly, I grant
you, I'm as likely to join the play actors as to enter a
nunnery, the one as the other and the other as the one. Both
draw me strangely, and I'm likelier to do either than to marry
you. Here's my hand and seal on that, or, rather, here's my hand
and a kiss, for a kiss is more binding than a seal. And now for
the last word--will you put me out of your mind? Or will you
wait for that chance meeting?

JUDITH, YOUR COUSIN. ALSO,
JUDITH, DUTIFUL DAUGHTER
OF JAMES OGILVIE.

Lindley's lips had touched the paper more than once, and half a dozen sighs had crossed them, when suddenly he sprang to his feet.

A black star! Judith's horse, then, had a black star on its forehead! And the horse with the black star that had but now strayed into the stable yard! Could that be Judith's horse? Was Judith in danger or distress? In another instant Lindley was out through the door, calling aloud for the white horse with the black star between its eyes.

"But, my master," gasped a stable lad, "a squire from Master Ogilvie's led the beast away not ten minutes ago. 'Twas Mistress Ogilvie's horse, he said, strayed from the woods where the lady had been gathering wild flowers."

And it was then at that moment that the Lady Barbara's mud-bespattered outriders dashed into the courtyard, crying out that their lady's coach was but a short distance behind them.