SELWICK HALL, NOVEMBER YE LAST. Such a fright have I had this morrow, I may scantly hold my pen. I set forth for the copse where I do meet with my _Protection_, and had well-nigh reached it,--verily, I could discern him coming through the trees to meet me--when from _Nanny's_ hut, right upon us, who should come out save _Father_, and _Mother_, and _Edith_, their own selves. I cast but a glint to him that he should not note me, and walked on to meet them. "Why, _Milly_!" saith _Mother_. "I wist not thou wert coming this way, child." "Under your pleasure, _Mother_, no more did I of you," said I. "Why, _Milly_, do but look at yon gentleman!" saith _Edith_, as he passed by us, taking no note of us at all. "Is it not the same we met on Saint _Hubert's_ Isle?" "Is it so?" said I, making believe to look after him, the rather since it gave me an excuse to turn my back on them. "He bears a green jerkin,--otherwise--" Wherein I am very sure I said _no_ falsity, as whatso _Father_ might say. "I do think it is the same," saith _Edith_. "Came he ever to speak with you, _Father_?" "Nay, my lass, I mind him not," saith _Father_. "He is not ill-looking," saith _Mother_. "May-be not," quoth _Father_. "Thou art a better judge of such matters than I, dear heart. I only note the way a man's soul looketh out of his eyes, not the colour of the eyes whence it looketh." "Now, _Father_, under your good leave, that is not well said," _Edith_ makes answer: "for you have your own self the fairest eyes ever a man's soul looked forth of." _Father_ laughs at this, and doffs his cap merrily. "Your very humble servant, Mistress _Editha Louvaine_," quoth he: "when I do desire to send forth to the world a book of all my beauties, learning, and virtues, I will bid you to write therein touching mine eyes. They serve me well to see withal, I thank God, and beyond that issue have I never troubled me regarding them." "And how liked you the manner of Sir _Edwin Tregarvon's_ soul looking forth, _Father_?" saith _Edith_, also laughing. "Why, that could I not see," quoth he, "for he keeping his eyes bent upon the ground, it did not look forth. But I cannot say his face altogether pleased me." How mighty strange is it that all they--and in especial _Father_, that I have alway reckoned so wise--should have so little discernment!