"Yes, and there she dwelt in peace for fifteen years, without seeing the face of a man, till one day Brochwel, Prince of Powis, when hunting, discovered her, and was filled with wonder to find in the depth of the wild forest a maiden of rare beauty, at prayer on her knees beside a holy well; and still greater was his wonder to find that a hare his dogs had pursued had sought refuge by her side, while they shrank cowering back with awe. Brochwel heard her story; and taking pity, gave to God and to her some land to be a sanctuary for all who fled there; she became the patron saint of hares, and for centuries the forest there teemed with them; and even at this hour our old people believe that no bullet can touch a hare, if any one cries in time, 'God and St. Monacella be with thee!'" "A smart little nursery legend," said Sir Watkins, who perhaps knew it well, though he had listened for the pure pleasure of having her to talk to him, and him alone. "It is one of the oldest of our Welsh superstitions," said Winifred, somewhat piqued by his tone. "Why are you so cross with me?" he asked, while venturing just to touch her hand, as he tied a spray of ivy for her. "Cross--I, with you?" "Reserved, then." "I am not aware, Sir Watkins, that I am either; but please don't begin to revert to--to--" "The subject on which we spoke so lately?" "Yes." "Ah, Miss Lloyd--my earnest and loving proposal to you." "In pity say no more about it!" said Winifred, colouring again, but with intense annoyance at herself for having drawn forth the remark. "Well, Miss Lloyd, pardon me; I am but a plain fellow in my way, and your good papa understands me better than you do." "And likes you better," said she, smiling. "I am sorry to be compelled to admit that such is the case; but remember the maxim of Henry IV. of France." "Why--the roses please--what was it?" "There are more flies caught by one spoonful of honey than by ten tuns of vinegar." "Thanks, very much, for the maxim," replied Winifred, proudly and petulantly; "but I hope I am not quite of the nature of vinegar, and I don't wish to catch flies or anything else." It was now Sir Watkins' turn to blush, which he did furiously, for her proud little ways perplexed him; but she added, with a laugh, "The base of the next pillar requires our attention, and then I think the decorations are ended. Do let the cobwebs alone with your whip, and assist me, if you would please me." "There is not in all the world a girl I would do more to please," said Sir Watkins, earnestly, his blue eyes lighting up with honest enthusiasm as he spoke in a low and earnest tone, "and I know that there is not in all England another girl like you, Winifred: you quite distance them all, and it is more than I can understand how it comes to pass that those who--who--don't love you--" "Well, what, Sir Watkins?"