It was a mild winter day, and a picnic was projected in the woods near Cardiff. The wedding was to take place in about a week. Maude rode on a pillion to the scene where the rustic dinner was to be behind Bertram Lyngern, who seemed in a particularly bright and amiable mood. When a woman rode on a pillion, it must be remembered that she was in a very insecure position; and it was an absolute necessity for the fair rider to clasp her arms round the waist of the man who sat before her, and, when the road was rough, to cling pretty tightly. It was therefore desirable that the pair should be at least reasonably civil to one another, and should not get on quarrelsome terms. There was little likelihood of Maude's quarrelling with Bertram, her friend of twenty years' standing; but she did not share his evident light-heartedness as he rode carolling along, now breaking out into a snatch of one song, and now of another, and constantly interrupting himself with playful remarks. "`Sitteth all still, and hearkeneth to me: The King of Almayne, by my leaute, Thritti thousand pound asked he--' "A squirrel, Mistress Maude! shall I catch it? "_Dame avec l'oeil de beaute_-- "So, my good lad, softly! so, Lyard! How clereful a day! Nigh as soft as summer. "`Summer is ycomen in-- Merry sing, cuckoo! Groweth glede, and bloweth mead, And springeth wood anew.' "Be merry, Mistress Maude, I pray you! you mope not, surely?" "I scarce know, Master Lyngern. Mayhap so." "Shame to mope on such a day!" said Bertram, springing from the saddle, and holding his hand to help Maude to jump down also. "There hath not been so fair a morrow this month gone." He was soon busy unpacking the sumpter-mules' bags, with two or three more; and dinner was served under the shade of the trees, without any consideration of ceremony. Our fathers spent so much of their time out of doors, and dressed for the season so much more warmly than we do, that they chose days for picnics at which we should shudder. After dinner Maude wandered about a little by herself, and at length sat down at the foot of a lofty oak. She had not been there many minutes before she saw Constance and York coming slowly towards her, evidently in earnest conversation. "Lo' you here, Ned!" said Constance eagerly, when she caught sight of Maude. "Here is one true as steel. If that you say must have no eavesdroppers, sit we on the further side of this tree; and Maude, hold where thou art, and if any come this way, give a privy pluck at my gown, and we will speak other." They sat down on the other side of the oak. "Custance," began her brother, "I misconceive not, trow, to account thee yet true to the cause of King Richard, be he where he may?" York knew, as certainly as he knew of his own existence, that Richard had been dead five years. But it suited his purpose to speak doubtfully. "Certes, Ned, of very inwitte!" [Most heartily.]