THE CHRONICLE OF CLEMENDY
eyes like summer lightning from an ebon sky; it fell out that they rode one day before all the rest, and roamed even farther, till the sound of voices and laughing was broken and died into silence. And now the only sounds were a gentle rustling as the boughs above swayed to and fro in the southern wind, and that continual murmur of summer time, which tells us of the labour of the bees. And the voices of Bertha and Sir Symon were hushed also, but they rode very close together and seemed to lean toward one another; so that Gwyn-ap-Neath the King of Færy who happened to be going the same way, held his little sides for laughing and poked his little Prothonotary hard in the ribs, to make him understand there was a joke. You will wonder perhaps that the knight did not set about his business in earnest, finding himself thus alone with his dear lady; but the reason is that love is fearful; though at the same time it is most hardy; the which is a dogma to be believed without any questions, cavils, or argumentations. But before long, finding they were far away from their fellows he leant toward Bertha and kissed her on the cheek, without asking leave or license, whence we may perceive that the field was ready for the crop, the fagots for the torch, the bread for the oven, and, in effect, Bertha's cheek for her lover's lips. For indeed she made no remonstrance whatever, only a crimson dawn of Very Love flushed from her breast to her forehead; and since she had been anxiously expecting some such pleasant occurrence for the last mile, it would have been foolish to scream
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