"Settled, perhaps, as far as I am concerned; but what about your lady? Will her caprice last out until you return, think you, or will she be likely to stay in the same mind until to-morrow? ’Tis nothing to her, mayhap, to set a poor prisoner’s brain afire, and bid him welcome death because it brings him five minutes of her company. I may dream myself her husband for a few hours, and forget everything else in the delicious hope of seeing her again; but what of her? By the time you go back to her, she may have changed her mind, or found some less objectionable way of paying her debts!" "’Tis like enough," she replied coolly. "You would not be the first she has served in that fashion. You must take your chance of that." "I’ll take my chance," the prisoner acquiesced. "Very well. Now, will you swear not to reveal the marriage to any one?—unless it be your father-confessor, if you have one." "That I will willingly swear. If she can keep the secret herself, it will be safe enough in my grave." "Now, I have only one more thing to ask. You must not be offended, but—is Robin Freemantie your true name? I know you ’Knights of the Road’ do, sometimes, masquerade in name as well as in person, so perhaps you may have another name—not quite so—celebrated?" "Aha! my lady wants a respectable grave to bury her debts in!" cried Robin, laughing sarcastically. "I am fortunate in being able to satisfy her even in this. I _have_ another name, and a friend who will claim my body after I am hanged, and bury me where my disconsolate widow may, if she wish, raise a monument to commemorate my virtues and her woes." He wrote the name on a sheet of paper and handed it to her. "And have _you_ no condition to make?" asked Peggie, rising. "What condition should I make?" demanded Robin, somewhat sternly. "Will she try to save my life, who only seeks to profit by my death? No! it will be reward enough to hold her hand for five minutes, while the priest makes her my wife; for just so long as I can coax her to keep her carriage waiting! No conditions for me. Yet, stay; I’ll make one that will not hurt her pride or wound her vanity. Tell her I demand that she comes to me, looking her prettiest, as becomes a bride. I’ll feast my eyes upon her loveliness, and if she’ll but kiss me once, I’d thank them if they would take me out and hang me before the kiss had time to grow cold on my lips. Fare-thee-well, sweetheart, since you must go, and thanks for your company. Take my lady back my wallet, and let me first fill it with gold pieces for yourself." "No, no!" cried Peggie, not quite able to act up to the character of waiting-woman to the extent of accepting a fee for her mediation. "My lady would be vexed with me, if I took aught from you but your consent to marry her." "And this," he cried, gaily kissing her. "I’ll warrant you know the old saw, ’Kiss and never tell.’"