Skirmen now ascended from the hold of the vessel, and approached his grave master, who sat thoughtfully, with his arm over the rudder, now and then casting back a look to the huge dark castle, where a single light only was visible, shining from a turret-chamber in the south-eastern angle. There, he knew that Lady Ingé, in her childhood, had her apartment; and there, as children, they had often played together. "Master," said Skirmen, advancing a little nearer, "be not offended if I disturb you in the midst of important thoughts. But steer you not rather too much to the south?" "You are right, Skirmen," answered Drost Peter, hastily turning the helm: "yes, this must be the right course. It is dark, and we need to have our eyes about us. Fortunately, I can see the light, yonder. Now, tell me somewhat. You followed the lady from the tower. How was she affected? Did she converse with you?" "Not a word, sir, until I had set down the lantern, and was about to depart: then, indeed, she asked me if I was your squire." "And what did you answer?" asked the drost, hastily. "Eh? what could I answer save 'yes,' sir? But now, are you not steering rather southerly again?" Drost Peter hastily corrected his error. "Said she nothing more to you?" he resumed, after a pause. "Ay, true: as she was entering the door, she dropped her red hair-band, which I picked up, and restored to her. That I might not appear a lout, without a word to say, I remarked that she wore the queen's colours as well as my master, the drost. I perceived that she started on hearing this; on which I drew myself up a little; for I know it is an honour that no knight but yourself can boast." "Stupidity--cursed bravado!" exclaimed Drost Peter, with unusual vehemence. "Moreover, it is untrue: I no longer wear the queen's colours." "That I knew not, stern sir. You wore them, however, when we travelled from Melfert." "But now, as I tell you, I no longer wear them; and, for the sake of bragging, you should say nothing but what you know for certain to be true." Skirmen was abashed, and remained silent. "And what said she to this stupid boasting?" continued Drost Peter, in a milder tone. "Nothing, stern sir. Yet it occurred to me, that she was much moved thereat.----But be not angry, stern sir: the helm is a little wrong again." "Certainly not: let me attend to that. Moved, say you? Why think you she was moved? What foolish talk is this?" "Truly by this, my master: she turned away from me, blushed deeply, and, as it seemed to me, there were tears in her eyes." "Nonsense, Skirmen! you must have mistaken.--Spring forwards, and put that sail to rights!" Skirmen hastened to obey his master's order, although he could not conceive why he was so singularly abrupt and abstracted.