Now when she had gone but a very short way, my lady must needs
glance back over her shoulder, then, screened to be sure by a
convenient bramble-bush, she stood to watch him as he swung along,
strong, graceful, but with never a look behind.

"Who was he?" she wondered. "What was he? From his clothes he might
be anything between a gamekeeper and a farmer."

Alas! poor Barnabas! To be sure his voice was low and modulated, and
his words well chosen--who was he, what was he? And he was going to
London where he had no friends. And he had never told his name, nor,
what was a great deal worse, asked for hers! Here my lady frowned,
for such indifference was wholly new in her experience. But on went
long-legged Barnabas, all unconscious, striding through sunlight and
shadow, with step blithe and free--and still (Oh! Barnabas) with
never a look behind. Therefore, my lady's frown grew more portentous,
and she stamped her foot at his unconscious back; then all at once
the frown vanished in a sudden smile, and she instinctively shrank
closer into cover, for Barnabas had stopped.

"Oh, indeed, sir!" she mocked, secure behind her leafy screen,
nodding her head at his unconscious back; "so you've actually
thought better of it, have you?"

Here Barnabas turned.

"Really, sir, you will even trouble to come all the way back, will
you, just to learn her name--or, perhaps to--indeed, what
condescension. But, dear sir, you're too late; oh, yes, indeed you
are! 'for he who will not when he may, when he will he shall have nay.'