Two or three thorn trees stood out from the rest, a pale and solitary group, stooping eastward with the prevailing sweep of a hundred years or more of westerly winds. To this the gipsy captain glided, in a straight military line, his eye searching the distance; and, after a while, from the skirts of the wood, there moved to meet him a lonely female figure, with her light clothing fluttering in the cold air. At first she came hurriedly, but as they drew near, she came more slowly. Devereux was angry, and, like an angry man, he broke out first with-- 'So, your servant, Mistress Nan! Pretty lies you've been telling of me--you and your shrew of a mother. You thought you might go to the rector and say what you pleased, and I hear nothing.' Nan Glynn was undefinably aware that he was very angry, and had hesitated and stood still before he began, and now she said imploringly-- 'Sure, Masther Richard, it wasn't me.' 'Come, my lady, don't tell me. You and your mother--curse her!--went to the Elms in my absence--_you_ and she--and said I had promised to _marry_ you! There--yes or no. Didn't you? And could you or could she have uttered a more utterly damnable lie?' ''Twas _she_, Master Richard--troth an' faith. I never knew she was going to say the like--no more I didn't.' 'A likely story, truly, Miss Nan!' said the young rake, bitterly. 'Oh! Masther Richard! by this cross!--you won't believe me--'tis as true as you're standin' there--until she said it to Miss Lily--' 'Hold your tongue!' cried Devereux, so fiercely, that she thought him half wild; 'do you think 'tis a pin's point to me which of you first coined or uttered the lie? Listen to me; I'm a desperate man, and I'll take a course with you both you'll not like, unless you go to-morrow and see Dr. Walsingham yourself, and tell him the whole truth--yes, the truth--what the devil do I care?--speak that, and make the most of it. But tell him plainly that your story about my having promised to marry you--do you hear--was a lie, from first to last--a lie--a lie--without so much as a grain of truth mixed up in it. All a cursed--devil's--woman's invention. Now, mind ye, Miss Nan, if you don't, I'll bring you and your mother into court, or I'll have the truth out of you.' 'But there's no need to threaten, sure, you know, Masther Richard, I'd do anything for you--I would. I'd beg, or I'd rob, or I'd die for you, Masther Richard; and whatever you bid me, your poor wild Nan 'ill do.' Devereux was touched, the tears were streaming down her pale cheeks, and she was shivering. 'You're cold, Nan; where's your cloak and riding hood?' he said, gently. 'I had to part them, Masther Richard.' 'You want money, Nan,' he said, and his heart smote him.