The dress of the lad was completely in village fashion,
yet neat and handsome in appearance. He had a jerkin of gray cloth
slashed and trimmed, with black hose of the same, with deer-skin
rullions or sandals, and handsome silver spurs. A cloak of a dark
mulberry colour was closely drawn round the upper part of his person,
and the cape in part muffled his face, which was also obscured by his
bonnet of black velvet cloth, and its little plume of feathers.
Sir Piercie Shafton, fond of society, desirous also to have a guide,
and, moreover, prepossessed in favour of so handsome a youth, failed
not to ask him whence he came, and whither he was going. The youth
looked another way, as he answered, that he was going to Edinburgh,
"to seek service in some nobleman's family."
"I fear me you have run away from your last master," said Sir Piercie,
"since you dare not look me in the face while you answer my question."
"Indeed, sir, I have not," answered the lad, bashfully, while, as if
with reluctance, he turned round his face, and instantly withdrew it.
It was a glance, but the discovery was complete. There was no
mistaking the dark full eye, the cheek in which much embarrassment
could not altogether disguise an expression of comic humour, and the
whole figure at once betrayed, under her metamorphosis, the Maid of
the Mill. The recognition was joyful, and Sir Piercie Shafton was too
much pleased to have regained his companion to remember the very
good reasons which had consoled him for losing her.
Pages:
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508