“I will be judge of that,” he answered. “Come, let us be off, child! Or stay! hast no other dress than that?” He looked toward the mistress of the house. “I warrant that Mistress Stagg can trick you out! I would have you go fine, Audrey of the hair! Audrey of the eyes! Audrey of the full brown throat! Dull gold,--have you that, now, mistress, in damask or brocade? Soft laces for her bosom, and a yellow bloom in her hair. It should be dogwood, Audrey, like the coronal you wore on May Day. Do you remember, child? The white stars in your hair, and the Maypole all aflutter, and your feet upon the green grass”-- “Oh, I was happy then!” cried Audrey and wrung her hands. Within a moment, however, she was calm again, and could look at him with a smile. “I am only Audrey,” she said. “You know that the ball is not for me. Why then do you tell me that I must go? It is your kindness; I know that it is your kindness that speaks. But yet--but yet”--She gazed at him imploringly: then from his steady smile caught a sudden encouragement. “Oh!” she exclaimed with a gesture of quick relief, and with tremulous laughter in her face and voice,--“oh, you are mocking me! You only came to show how a gentleman looks who goes to a Governor’s ball!” For the moment, in her relief at having read his riddle, there slipped from her the fear of she knew not what,--the strangeness and heaviness of heart that had been her portion since she came to Williamsburgh. Leaving the white wall against which she had leaned, she came a little forward, and with gayety and grace dropped him a curtsy. “Oh, the white satin like the lilies in your garden!” she laughed. “And the red heels to your shoes, and the gold-fringed sword knot, and the velvet scabbard! Ah, let me see your sword, how bright and keen it is!” She was Audrey of the garden, and Haward, smiling, drew his rapier and laid it in her hands. She looked at the golden hilt, and passed her brown fingers along the gleaming blade. “Stainless,” she said, and gave it back to him. Taking it, he took also the hand that had proffered it. “I was not laughing, child,” he said. “Go to the ball thou shalt, and with me. What! Thou art young and fair. Shalt have no pleasure”-- “What pleasure in that?” cried Audrey. “I may not go, sir; nay, I will not go!”