'I trust that you have taken no hurt, my fair lady,' said Alleyne, conducting her to the bank, upon which John had already placed a cushion.
'Nay, I have had no scath, though I have lost my silver tweezers. Now, lack-a-day! did God ever put breath into such a fool as Michael Easover of Romsey? But I am much beholden to you, gentle sirs. Soldiers ye are, as one may readily see. I am myself a soldier's daughter,' she added, casting a somewhat languishing glance at John, 'and my heart ever goes out to a brave man.'
'We are indeed fresh from Spain,' quoth Alleyne.
'From Spain, say you? Ah! it was an ill and sorry thing that so many should throw away the lives that Heaven gave them. In sooth, it is bad for those who fall, but worse for those who bide behind. I have but now bid farewell to one who hath lost all in this cruel war.'
'And how that, lady?'
'She is a young damsel of these parts, and she goes now into a nunnery. Alack! it is not a year since she was the fairest maid from Avon to Itchen, and now it was more than I could abide to wait at Romsey Nunnery to see her put the white veil upon her face, for she was made for a wife and not for the cloister. Did you ever, gentle sir, hear of a body of men called "The White Company" over yonder?'
'Surely so,' cried both the comrades.
'Her father was the leader of it, and her lover served under him as squire. News hath come that not one of the Company was left alive, and so, poor lamb, she hath'
'Lady!' cried Alleyne, with catching breath, 'is it the Lady Maude Loring of whom you speak?'
'It is, in sooth.'
'Maude! And in a nunnery! Did, then, the thought of her father's death so move her?'
'Her father!' cried the lady, smiling. 'Nay; Maude is a good daughter, but I think it was this young golden-haired
