"He was well enough for a man," answered Constance. "He might have been younger, and he might have been gentler in words; for his hair was grizzled grey, and he abused everybody roundly, from the king on his throne to the horseboy who saddled his beast. He was a gentleman notwithstanding, and courteous to me; and I have a strong fancy, dear Iola, that his heart is not as hard as his words, for I have read in some old book that hard sayings often go with soft doings." "Ha, ha, say you so, Constance dear?" replied Iola; "then methinks you have been prying a little closely into the bosom of this Sir William Arden. Well, you are free, and can love where you list. I am like a poor popinjay tied to a stake, where every boy archer may bend his bow at me, and I do nothing but sit still and endure. I often wonder what this Lord Fulmer is like, my husband that is to be, God wot. I hope he is not a sour man with a black beard, and that he does not squint, and has not a high shoulder like the king, and has both his eyes of one colour; for I hate a wall-eyed horse, and it would be worse in a husband--unless one of them was blind, which would indeed be a comfort, as one could be sure of getting on the blind side of him." "How your little tongue runs," said her cousin. "It is like a lapdog fresh let out into the fields, galloping hither and thither for pure idleness." "Well, I will be merry whatever happens," answered Iola gaily. "'Tis the best way of meeting fate, Constance. You may be as grave and demure as a cat before the fire, or as sad and solemn as the ivy on an old tower. I will be as light as the lark upon the wing, and as cheerful as a bough of Christmas holly, garlanding a boar's head on a high festival; and she sang with a clear sweet voice, every note of which was full of gladness, some scraps of an old ballad very common in those days. "Nay, ivy, nay, It shall not be, I wis; Let holly have the mastery, As the custom is. "Holly stands in the hall Fair to behold; Ivy stands without the door Shivering with cold. Nay, ivy, nay, etc. "Holly and his merry men They dance and play; Ivy and her maidens Weep a well a day. Nay, ivy, nay, etc. "Holly hath berries As red as any rose; The forester and hunter Keep them for the does. Nay, ivy, nay, etc. "Ivy hath berries As black as any sloe; There comes the owl, With his long whoop of woe. Nay, ivy, nay, etc."