_Eld._ I follow not you but my orders, mistress. Sir Roland says that I must not leave you. _Gla._ The gates are all locked. Does he think me a bird to fly over the walls? _Eld._ That he does! The bonniest bird that ever sang in Greenot woods. Isn't Sir Roland a man, my lady? _Gla._ By his cap and feather, I should not doubt it. _Eld._ But a man you may look at, my lady! _Gla._ Pray God I may, madam, for 'tis sad to be young and blind. _Eld._ Ay, but when I look at Sir Roland I could sing again the song that got me a husband. _Gla._ What song? I think you got him with your fair face and honest mind, and he took the song by way of grace with meat. _Eld._ True, mistress, I was a fair, canny lass over the border. _Gla._ And a fair, canny dame you are now, Eldra. But what was the song? _Eld._ It was back summat ten jaunts o' the sun from Lammas to Lammas. I was standing on the rock hills over Logan frith wi' the green woods behind me an' lookin' out to sea. The waves were runnin' high, and the brine in my face gave me such a spirit that in a minute my bonnet was off and I was singing at the top of my voice-- O braw, braw knight, come down the glen And awa' to kirk wi' me! And Heaven send us seven stout sons To fight for our king on the sea! It's a long ballad, but it's out o' my mind now, and who should come up behind me but my man that was to be, and 'twas set then and there we must go to the kirk come Sunday. Ay, it got me a husband, but never a son, for only six months away he was drowned at sea--the very sea that I'd sung so brave t-to---- _Gla._ Don't cry. He will come sailing back some day with a fortune in his pocket. I don't believe he was drowned. _Eld._ I care not what's in his pocket, ma'am, if he bring me love in his heart. _Gla._ That he will, I am sure. Where is Orson? _Eld._ Bathing his knees in gooseoil, my lady. You kept him at prayers all night for Sir Hubert. _Gla._ Why, did we not share his watch? _Eld._ Yes, mistress, but when you fell asleep we had not the heart to wake you. _Gla._ O, ho! I fell asleep, did I? _Eld._ I should hope you did, my lady. For my part I winked but once, and when I woke up you were---- _Gla._ Asleep? _Eld._ No, but you were praying so chipper that I knew you were just at it. _Gla._ O, false woman! Do you think I could sleep when Hubert is on the sea? Call Orson to me. _Eld._ Orson! Orson! [_Enter Orson, walking stiffly_] _Gla._ Why, Orson, you carry as much dignity as a watchman that has just let in a duke. _Ors._ Mock not affliction got in your service, my lady. _Gla._ My service? When did I tell you to sleep all night on your knees? _Ors._ Sleep? Sleep, lady? _Gla._ Ay, sleep. You are a knave. Bring me my lute. _Ors._ [_Muttering_] Sleep! There's thanks for you! [_Exit_]