"Oho!--that is soon decided. Dost see yon hill, Edgar Wintour? I am tired of trotting along this dusty lane, and have made up my mind to a gallop across these fields to its summit. The view is doubtless charming. Come, Gertrude--let us see who will reach it first." "Maiden, do no such thing," cried Edgar, quickly grasping the young girl’s bridle as she turned her steed. Quick as lightning Beatrice gave his horse a sharp cut with her whip, and the animal plunged so violently that Edgar involuntarily let go his hold. With a ringing laugh of triumph, Beatrice urged on her steed, bounded across the low bushes which bordered the roadway, and made straight for the hill. Stung to anger at being tricked, and still more so at sundry sly chuckles from one or two of the men-at-arms, Edgar gave instant chase and galloped furiously after. But though he did not spare his steed, the fugitive was not overtaken until she had reached the summit of the hill and had drawn rein to admire the prospect. "’Tis fine, is it not, Edgar?" enquired the young girl, flushed and sparkling with the sharp gallop, as she pretended to admire the prospect while glancing furtively at the young esquire. "I will not have it, Beatrice," cried Edgar, as he grasped her bridle with a grip that he did not mean to be shaken off. "What catastrophe may I not have to report to Sir John if thou goest on so wilfully?" "Release my bridle," commanded Beatrice indignantly. "Thou wilt make me wish that Aymery or Roland were Sir John’s esquire instead of thee, Edgar Wintour." "’Twould be strange if thou didst not do so a’ready," replied Edgar calmly. "I have no claims to their flattering tongues or courtly ways. But if ever a time of stress cometh mayhap thou wilt then be the less discontented." "Art going to lead me back to our party with hand on my bridle?" cried Beatrice haughtily, albeit with a hint of pleading in her voice. "Nay, I will not so humiliate thee. But remember, Beatrice, ours is an expedition of war, and not a pleasure excursion. Obedience must needs be given." "Surely thou art taking thy first command over-seriously," replied Beatrice scoffingly. "What need is there to exact obedience from Gertrude and me? We are not men-at-arms." "This reason, Beatrice. At our last stop I was informed that the district was infested with robbers and brigands, who had become much emboldened since interest had been so centred in the war. What then if ye had become lost and had fallen into their hands?" "I would that the robbers would capture thee, Edgar Wintour," cried Beatrice quickly, as she galloped back to Gertrude’s side. Edgar laughed, though somewhat ruefully, and followed her example.