Sir Aylmer de Mountfitchett then heard the casement closed, when from the force of habit he spun the copper in the air, caught it, put it in his pocket; opened the paper, smelt the pasty,--which by the way was not sweet,--pitched it into the moat, and went home in dudgeon; which is the ancient form for expressing that he went back to his castle saying all the bad words that he had picked up through playing skittles and billiards with the fast men of his day. But the maiden did not always take Sir Aylmer for an Ethiopian serenader, or a Christy's Minstrel; for at last, instead of throwing him out coppers and wedges of pasty, she used to blow him kisses across the moat. But after a twelvemonth spent at that sort of fun, without success, for not one of the kisses ever reached the mark, the lovers hit upon a plan by which they might enjoy one another's society, and cease wasting the salutes which they had been sending "out upon the night winds" every evening as soon as it grew dusk. It was a warm dark night in Autumn and there was high revelry in the castle upon the mound, for Sir Geoffrey had been giving a rent dinner, and according to custom, he had made himself slightly inebriated by drinking sack--a celebrated old beverage famous for enveloping the intellects. The warders of the castle walls had watched whether it was likely that the knight would come out again that night, and then gone to sleep in the room by the portcullis. The moon was not up, and all was still but the croaking of the frogs in the moat, when Sir Aylmer crept up to the edge, and putting his fingers in his mouth gave a long whistle. Directly after there was a slight cough above his head, and the noise of something falling. After a good deal of fumbling Sir Aylmer's hands came in contact with a pair of scissors, to which was attached a thread. All had been previously arranged, and at a given signal the thread was drawn up again, having with it, in addition to the scissors, a thin cord--then followed a thick cord--then followed a rope--and then followed a rope ladder--and, lastly, when the ladder was made tight, followed Sir Aylmer de Mountfitchett. "Hist," said the lady. "Hist," said Sir Aylmer, as he climbed like a very Blondin, the rope that would keep spinning round like a jack, till the young knight felt that he should soon be done brown if it did not stop. "Hist," said the lady again. "Hist," said the knight, as he reached the window-sill. "Hist," said the lady again to her panting lover, who felt rather sick and giddy. "How is the rope fastened?" said the knight. "To the bed-post," said the lady modestly. "Your hand a moment, fair dame," said the knight, trying to climb on the window-sill. "Oh! dear me, _No_!" said the lady, "I could not think of such a thing." "But I can't stay here," said the knight, "this rope cuts like fury."