[_Another gust of wind and bird-chatter. She sits on the mossy root of an oak and buries her face in her hands._ CASHEL BYRON, _in a white singlet and breeches, comes through the trees_. CASHEL. What's this? Whom have we here? A woman! LYDIA [_looking up_]. Yes. CASHEL. You have no business here. I have. Away! Women distract me. Hence! LYDIA. Bid you me hence? I am upon mine own ground. Who are you? I take you for a god, a sylvan god. This place is mine: I share it with the birds, The trees, the sylvan gods, the lovely company Of haunted solitudes. CASHEL. A sylvan god! A goat-eared image! Do your statues speak? Walk? heave the chest with breath? or like a feather Lift you--like this? [_He sets her on her feet._ LYDIA [_panting_]. You take away my breath! You're strong. Your hands off, please. Thank you. Farewell. CASHEL. Before you go: when shall we meet again? LYDIA. Why should we meet again? CASHEL. Who knows? We _shall_. That much I know by instinct. What's your name? LYDIA. Lydia Carew. CASHEL. Lydia's a pretty name. Where do you live? LYDIA. I' the castle. CASHEL [_thunderstruck_]. Do not say You are the lady of this great domain. LYDIA. I am. CASHEL. Accursed luck! I took you for The daughter of some farmer. Well, your pardon. I came too close: I looked too deep. Farewell. LYDIA. I pardon that. Now tell me who you are. CASHEL. Ask me not whence I come, nor what I am. You are the lady of the castle. I Have but this hard and blackened hand to live by. LYDIA. I have felt its strength and envied you. Your name? I have told you mine. CASHEL. My name is Cashel Byron. LYDIA. I never heard the name; and yet you utter it As men announce a celebrated name. Forgive my ignorance. CASHEL. I bless it, Lydia. I have forgot your other name. LYDIA. Carew. Cashel's a pretty name, too. MELLISH [_calling through the wood_]. Coo-ee! Byron! CASHEL. A thousand curses! Oh, I beg you, go. This is a man you must not meet. MELLISH [_further off_]. Coo-ee! LYDIA. He's losing us. What does he in my woods? CASHEL. He is a part of what I am. What that is You must not know. It would end all between us. And yet there's no dishonor in't: your lawyer, Who let your lodge to me, will vouch me honest. I am ashamed to tell you what I am-- At least, as yet. Some day, perhaps. MELLISH [_nearer_]. Coo-ee! LYDIA. His voice is nearer. Fare you well, my tenant. When next your rent falls due, come to the castle. Pay me in person. Sir: your most obedient. [_She curtsies and goes._