Page:Stories from Old English Poetry-1899.djvu/151

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MARGARET, THE FAIR MAID OF FRESINGFIELD.
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“No ill news, good sir,” she answered coldly. “Nor aught that will be news to your ears. I have just learned that the Earl of Lincoln was here in the forest, doing injustice to his high rank, by hiding it under a peasant’s garb.”

Lacy flushed, and stammered a reply.

“Do not deny yourself, my lord,” said Margaret. “I thought you were of my own rank, or I should never have changed so many words with you. And now farewell.”

“Stay, Margaret. Leave me not so suddenly. I confess I have hidden my rank from you. But my wooing was all in good earnest.”

“It was jest with you, my lord, but earnest with me. O! how these gentlemen who call themselves noble, will flatter and feign, to wrong a trusting woman’s heart!”

“On my life, on my knightly honor, Margaret, I mean no jest. I love you. At first, indeed, I laughed at the charms of woman’s face and voice. But since I saw you, everywhere, at the fair, in all our walks and meetings, I have loved you more and more. And if thou wilt, I will make thee the Lincoln Countess and my true and honorable wife.”

“Alas! Lord Lacy, I fear much that pride will never let thee stoop so low as from thee to me.”

“Margaret, I swear by the holy rood, I am