"Impudence? Oh, mistress?" he said reproachfully. "Let me assure you, master," she continued with relentless severity, "that you were wise an you returned straightway to your lodgings now ... packed your worldly goods and betook yourself and them to anywhere you please." "Ah!" he sighed gently, "that is impossible." "You would dare? ..." she retorted. "I would dare remain there, where my humble presence is most desired--beside the gracious lady who honors me with her love." "You are insolent, master ... and Sir Marmaduke ..." "Oh!" he rejoined lightly, "Sir Marmaduke doth not object." "There, I fear me, you are in error, master! and in his name I now forbid you ever to attempt to speak to Lady Susannah Aldmarshe again." This command, accompanied by a look of withering scorn, seemed to afford the stranger vast entertainment. He made the wrathful lady a low, ironical bow, and clapped his hands together laughing and exclaiming: "Brava! brava! of a truth but this is excellent! Pray, mistress, will you deign to tell me if in this your bidding you have asked Sir Marmaduke for his opinion?" "I need not to ask him. I ask you to go." "Go? Whither?" he asked blandly. "Out of my sight and off these grounds at once, ere I rouse the servants and have you whipped off like a dog!" she said, angered beyond measure at his audacity, his irony, his manner, suggestive of insolent triumph. His muffled voice with its curious foreign accent irritated her, as did the shadow of his perruque over his brow, and the black silk shade which he wore over one eye. Even now in response to her violent outburst he broke into renewed laughter. "Better and better! Ah, mistress," he said with a shake of the head, "of a truth you are more blind than I thought." "You are more insolent, master, than I had thought possible." "Yet meseems, fair lady, that in the lonely and mysterious stranger you might have remembered your humble and devoted servant," he said, drawing his figure up towards her. "You! an old friend!" she said contemptuously. "I have ne'er set eyes on you in my life before." "To think that the moon should be so treacherous," he rejoined imperturbably. "Will you not look a little closer, fair mistress, the shadows are somewhat dark, mayhap." She felt his one eye fixed upon her with cold intentness, a strange feeling of superstitious dread suddenly crept over her from head to foot. Like a bird fascinated by a snake she came a little nearer, down the steps, towards him, her eyes, too, riveted on his face, that curious face of his, surrounded by the heavy perruque hiding ears and cheeks, the mouth overshadowed by the dark mustache, one eye concealed beneath the black silk shade. He seemed amused at her terror and as she came nearer to him, he too, advanced a little until their eyes met--his, mocking, amused, restless; hers, intent and searching.