Conradin de Lamport was the name of the man who had accompanied him
into Wanmeeting. Prosper knew he was to be trusted. Then with
conscience cleared he mounted his horse and left Hauterive.
Keeping a sharp look-out as he went, he was rewarded by the find of a
shoe, glowing like a crimson toadstool in the moss. Not far off were
its fellow, and a pair of drenched silk stockings. He kissed the
vestiges of the feet of Isoult, hung them to the peak of the saddle,
and forward again like a westerly gale. After this came a fault which
delayed him the best part of three days. The deer were dumb animals
for him, whose business had hitherto been to bleed not milk them.
There were deer feeding in the glades of Thornyhold; but Belvisée was
nursing her wound under the oak by the pool, and Mellifont was beside
her. The deer snuffed an enemy in the friend of their friend; they
gave him a lead astray, which unconsciously he took. Thus he found
himself, after two days' aimless wandering and two nights' dreamless
sleep, on the high ground by Deerleap, with the forest behind and the
rolling purple fells stretched out before him, and at last a blue
gauzy ribbon which he knew for the sea. Out of heart he turned and
beat back to Thornyhold, this time to better purpose.
A rustle in the fern, a start, a glint of the sun on a side not furry,
a flash of flying green and russet, a streamer of hair like a litten
cloud--by Heavens, how the brown girl ran! Prosper, laughing but keen,
gave chase. She led him far, in and out of the oak stems, doubling
like a hare; but he rode her down by cutting off the corners: flushed,
panting and wild, defiant she stood, ready to flinch at the blow.
Prosper's horse was properly breathed; as for him he burst into a
laugh.
"My child, you bolted like a rabbit. But own that I gave you a good
run."
"You beat me," said Mellifont.
"Well, and now I am going to do what I like with you."
"Of course."
"You must be obedient. Answer my question now. Why did you run?"
"Because you came."
"Why did you run?"
"Because you are a man."
"Madam Virgin, what a prude! Did you think I should hurt you?"
"Yes."
"Well, have I?"
"Not yet."
"Look at me now. Do I look like hurting you?" He put up his visor. The
softest brown eyes a girl can have trembled over him.
"No--o. Oh!" The negative was drowned in discovery. Prosper followed
her gaze. He held up the red stockings.
"Do you know them, child?"
"I know to whom they belong. Are you going to hunt her?"