Presently, however, she turned her face to me and said, almost suddenly: "Humphrey, tell me more of that maiden you spoke about.

Why does she not love you ?" I knew not what to say, the question was so unlooked for.

I tried to laugh it off.
"Ask her that," said I.

"Why should she?
I am not Sir Ludar." "No," said she gently, and then her face blushed once more, and she dropped silent, looking away seaward.
I was sorry for my churlish speech, and feared it had given her offence.
But here I was wrong, for presently she said again: "Is she the little maid who talks to you at home in French, and whom you carried in your arms.

Tell me more of her, Humphrey." To please her I obeyed.