Yet I should recognise each tree by conning it, and of every rivulet in Galloway I should be able to tell the name.

Yet with shame do I confess that I know not where I am." "Ah," said the girl, her face growing luminous through the gloom, "you called me a witch, and now you shall see.

I wave my hands, so--and you are no more in Galloway.

You are in the land of faery.

I blow you a kiss, so--and lo! you are no more William, sixth Earl of Douglas and proximate Duke of Touraine, but you are even as True Thomas, the Beloved of the Queen of the Fairies, and the slave of her spell!" "I am indeed well content to be Thomas Rhymer," he answered, submitting himself to the wooing glamour of her eyes, "so be that you are the Lady of the milk-white hind!" "A courtier indeed," she laughed; "you need not to seek your answer.
You make a poor girl afraid.