“Ho! ho!—a fetch that!” and the fellow, a coarse rude-looking man, though rather expensively dressed, flourished his fist in the face of the young man, but was requited that instant with a round blow that levelled him with the ground. The others fell back from the tall strong-limbed, open-faced youth, and the girl took the opportunity of moving forward, swiftly indeed, but so steadily as to betray no air of terror. Meantime, the young gentleman’s voice might be heard, assuring his adversaries that he was ready to encounter one or all of them so soon as he had escorted the lady safe home. Perhaps she hoped that another attack would delay him; but if so, her expectations were disappointed, for in a second or two his quick firm tread followed her, and just as she had gained the mazy wood-path, he was beside her. “Thanks, Sir,” she said, “for the service you have done me, but I am now in safety.” “Nay, Lady, do me the grace of letting me bear your load.” “Thanks,” again she said; “but I feel no weight.” “But my knighthood does, seeing you thus laden.” “Spare your knighthood the sight, then,” she said smiling, and looking up with a glance of brightness, such as her hitherto sedate face had never before revealed to him. “That cannot be!” he exclaimed with fervency. “You bid me in vain leave you till I see you safe; and while with you, all laws of courtesy call on me to bear your burthen! So, Lady—” And he laid his hand upon the leathern thong that sustained the pitcher; but at that moment three or four heaps of rags, that had been lying under the trees by the woodland path, erected themselves, and one in especial, whom the young knight had observed as a frightful cripple seated by day near the well, now came forward brandishing his crutch in a formidable manner, and uttering a howl of defiance. But the lady silenced him at once— “Peace, good Trig, nothing is amiss! It is only this gentleman’s courtesy. He hath done me good service on the green yonder!” And as her strange body-guard retreated growling, she, perhaps to show her confidence, resigned her pitcher into the knight’s hand. “So, fair Queen of the Dew-drops,” he said, half bewildered, “thou dost work miracles!” “Ay, when the dew is on the grass, and the nightingale sings,” she returned gaily; “by day the enchantment is over.” By this time they had reached a low turf hut; and the maiden, turning at the door, held out her hand, and said, “Thanks, fair Sir, I must enter my enchanted palace alone; but grammercy for thy kind service, and farewell.”