“You are tired; will we rest before we go further?” “Is it far?” she asked. He reddened. He cast a fast glance round the country as if to look for some familiar landmark, but all was strange to him. “I do not know,” he confessed humbly. “I was never on the moor before.” “Mercy!” she said. “I thought there was never a lad from town but had fished here.” “But I was different,” he replied. “The woods and waters about the door were enough for me. But we’ll get to Elasaid’s very soon, I’m sure, and find fire, food, and rest.” She bit her nether lip in annoyance at a courtier so ill-prepared for their adventure. She turned to look back to the familiar country they were leaving behind them, and for a moment wished she had never come. “I wish we could have them now,” she said at last; the words drawn from her by her weariness. “And so we can,” said he eagerly, with a delight at a reflection that sprung into his mind like a revelation. “We can go down to the water there and build a fire, and rest and eat. It will be like what I fancied, a real adventure of hunters, and I will be the valet, and you will be the--the queen.” So they went down to the lake side. Heathery braes rose about it, reflected in its dark water; an islet overgrown with scrub lay in the middle of it, the very haunt of possible romance; Gilian straight inhabited the same with memories and exploits. Nan sat her down on the springy heather that swept its scents about her, she leaned a tired shoulder on it, and the bells of the ling blushed as they swayed against her cheek. Gilian put down his lantern, a ludicrous companion in broad sunshine, and was dashed by the sudden recollection that though he had talked of something to eat, he had really no means of providing it! The girl observed his perturbation and shrewdly guessed the reason. “Well?” she said maliciously, without a smile; “and where are we to get the food you so nicely spoke of?” He stood stupefied, and so dolorous a spectacle that she could not but laugh. “You have got none at all, but imagined our feast--as usual,” she said, unfolding her bundle. “It was well I did not depend on your forethought, Gilian,” and she took a flask of milk and some bread from within. He was as much vexed at the spoiling of his illusion about the contents of the bundle as at the discovery of his thoughtlessness. What he had been so fervently caressing against his side had been no more romantic than bread and cheese and some more substantial augmentation for the poor table of the old woman they were going to meet!