"When he met me alone, he doffed his cap and smiled, but spake not. This morrow he took no note of any one." "_Could_ she be going to meet him?" saith Aunt _Joyce_ in a low and very troubled voice. "In good sooth, _Aunt_," said I, "you have put into words my very fear, which I did scarce dare to think right out." "_Edith_," saith she, "is _Milly_ within, or no?" "She was tying on her hood a moment since, as though she meant to go forth. I saw her through a chink of the door, which was not close shut, as I passed by." "Come thou with me quickly," saith Aunt _Joyce_, and rose up. "We will follow her. 'Tis no treachery to lay snare for a traitor, if it be as I fear. And 'tis not she that is the traitor, poor child--poor, foolish child!" We walked quickly, for our aim was to keep _Milisent_ but just in view, yet not to let her see us. She was walking fast, too, and she took the road to _Nanny's_, but turned off just ere she were there, into the little shaw that lieth by the way. We followed quietly, till we could hear voices: then Aunt _Joyce_ stayed her behind a poplar-tree, and made me a sign to be still. "All things be now ordered, my fairest," I heard a voice say which methought was Sir _Edwin's_: and peeping heedfully round the poplar, I caught a glimpse of his side-face, enough to be sure it were he. Aunt _Joyce_ could see him likewise. "All things be ordered," quoth he: "remember, nine o' the clock on _Sunday_ night." "But thou wilt not fail me?" saith _Milisent's_ voice in answer. "Fail thee!" he made answer. "My sweetest of maids, impossible!" "I feel afeared," she saith again. "I would they had wist at home. I cannot be sure 'tis right." "Nay, sweet heart, call not up these old ghosts I have laid so oft already," saith he. "Sir _Aubrey's Puritan_ notions should never suffer him to give thee leave afore: but when done, he shall right soon o'erlook all, and all shall go merry as a marriage bell. Seest thou, we do him in truth a great kindness, sith he should be feared to give consent, and yet would fain so do if his conscience should allow." "Would he?" asks _Milly_, in something a troubled tone. "Would he!" Sir _Edwin_ makes answer. "Would he have his daughter a right great lady at the Court? Why, of course he would. Every man would that were not a born fool. My honey-sweet _Milisent_, let not such vain scruples terrify thee. They are but shadows, I do ensure thee." "I think thus when I am with thee," saith she, smiling up in his face: "but when not--" "Sweet heart," saith he, bending his goodly head, "_not_ is well-nigh over, and then thy cruel _Puritan_ scruples shall never trouble thee more."