"By Bacchus and Venus, and all the gods and goddesses who had to do with the making of love," he cried, "and am I to face that bright-eyed, ruddy-haired piece of tyranny? She was ready to fall in love with me at the first meeting, and here have I treated her and Sir Thomas most scurvily. How am I to behave? Apologise, or take the high hand?" "The latter!" he cried, touching the fat horse he rode with the spur. "If I am humble, I shall be slighted. Hang it, I will be courted, for I am from the court." He rode on through the pleasant woodlands, enjoying the sweet-scented breeze, but only for the agreeable sensations it afforded him; and, almost leaving the horse to follow its own bent, he at last came in sight of the stone pillars which supported the gates leading up to the Moat. It was a spot that would have delighted poet or artist, that long, embowering avenue of trees, at the end of which stood the mossy pillars, each supporting an impossible monster, which seemed to be putting out its tongue derisively at the visitors to the old house. Riding along the avenue and through the gates, Sir Mark passed a park-like stretch of grass, and then a belt of trees which almost hid the house, till he was close up to the old moat, from which it took its name; a broad, deep dyke of water that surrounded the building, bordered with a wide-spreading lawn of soft green turf, which was kept closely-shaven, and was dotted with spreading trees, and gnarled, rugged old hawthorns. This wide lawn ran from the edge of the moat to the ivy-grown walls of the quaint mansion, evidently the work, with its florid red brick, of some clever architect of Henry VII's days. To a lover of the picturesque, the place was perfect, with its ivy-softened walls and buttresses, quaintly-shaped windows, shady corners, seats beneath hawthorns, and clipped yews that dotted the old pleasaunce; and nothing could have been more attractive than the wild garden formed by the great lawn, broken by mossy boles, which ran down to the great lily-dappled moat. Sir Mark drew rein upon the old stone bridge, and gazed around him for a while at the broad leaves floating on the dark, clear water, where some great carp every now and then thrust up its broad snout and with a loud smack sucked down a hapless fly. There was something very attractive about the place; the quaint red building seen amongst the oaks and firs; the dashes of colour here and there of Dame Beckley's flower-beds, many of which were rich with strange plants that Gil Carr had brought from foreign lands and given to Mace for the garden at the Pool-house, and of which Dame Beckley had begged or taken cuttings. There was an air of sleepy calmness about the old moat that had its effect upon Sir Mark, whose musings upon the bridge took something of this form.