"Have I thy permission to speak, Sir Richard?" begged Harold, who was standing by. "Certes, you have, my boy," replied Sir Richard. "Then let me wish that all of thy troubles shall be as the smoke of it," said Harold earnestly. "'Tis a fitting epitaph," Rocelia said, her hand stealing within that of the young knight. Then, for a little space, they stood there upon the summit of the hill, watching the glare of the burning tavern fading and dying away. "Yes ... a most fitting epitaph," Sir Richard made answer. Whereupon they resumed their journey lightsomely, happily, northward. CHAPTER XXVI OF HOW A FLEDGLING DROPPED FROM THE CONSPIRATOR'S NEST The happy travelers found shelter for that night in the kind herdsman's cottage where Sir Richard had tarried whilst journeying with Isabel. The simple folk displayed a quite lively surprise upon observing that the maid with whom the young knight was now traveling was not the same. Sir Richard thought that mayhap they imagined that he was engaged upon the business of depopulating Scotland of her famous beauties. "There is just cause for such a supposition, i' truth," he added to himself. "I ken weel," the good man said, a glint of Scot's humor in his eyes, "that 'e braw English laddies be unco daft. The muckle Auld Hornie be in 'e all! But 'e hae yin bonnie lassie with 'e, now, sir knight ... yin muckle cantie jo!" and with that he winked at Sir Richard in a knowing fashion. His goodwife, a white-capped dame, busied herself in setting before them a "gigot" and a "bit kebbuck"; which translated and assimilated into English leg-o'-mutton and cheese. Bearing well in mind the company in which it was eaten, it would be a profanation to tell how thoroughly the young knight enjoyed that meal withal. But it must be confessed as well that the mulled ale was like a goblet of nectar to his palate. They passed a long and happy evening, Rocelia and Sir Richard, sitting by the fire's side beneath the smoke-browned beams of the low-ceilinged kitchen. Intently she listened, with her soft eyes bent lovingly upon the young knight, the while he recounted the adventures through which he had passed. She laughed right heartily when he came to that part of his tale where he had rescued her cousin Isabel out of the Red Tavern; and told him how bitterly her uncle Zenas had misliked her cousin, though all the while standing in somewhat of fear of her sharp tongue. Rocelia had known of but three, she said, who had ever held the slightest place within Zenas' morbid affections. Of the three, she named first the hound, to whose life Sir Richard had put a quietus on that first night; then her father; and, last, herself. "Revenge and jealousy, I make no doubt, hath armed the crookback's hand against thee, dear," she said.