"Nay, dearest Arabella," he replied, with a gay smile, "neither rash nor imprudent--bold, perhaps, to watch you as you sat here musing; but I claim but the privilege of the sun, who looks at you through the green leaves, even whilst you fancy yourself hidden from his bright eye."
"Nay, but you _are_ rash, William," she answered, "rash to come hither at all."
"I could not help it, Arabella," he said in reply, kissing her hand. "You would not have me a traitor or a rebel?"
"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Arabella, her imagination immediately connecting his words with the letter she had just been reading. "Oh, William, of all things, if you would not break my heart, avoid all dealings with the many dangerous men who are striving for things impossible. But you are laughing--I have mistaken you. Nay, if you smile so, I shall call back again all my old careless gaiety, which, to say truth, has been somewhat disturbed. If you could not help coming, tell me what brings you?"
"The King's commands," replied William Seymour. "The King's commands, to bid you to Wilton on Wednesday next."
"Oh, then, the King's commands shall be obeyed," said Arabella, "and his messenger is right welcome. But how got you in? You could not come hither from the house without my seeing you."
"I sent on horses and servants," answered William Seymour, "letter and all--for there is an epistle, brightest Arabella, writ by the King's own hand, in very choice Latin, as I understand, judging you a learned lady."
"Heaven help the mark!" interrupted Arabella. "But still, how got you in, William Seymour? 'Tis very rude of you to take me so by surprise." But her smiles, as the reader has already supposed, contradicted her words.
"Nay," said Seymour, "'tis worse than that, for I did so on purpose. Dismounting on the road, I sent my men and horses on, and leaped the paling, telling them that I would fain take a walk through the park; but, in truth, having an intimation from a good enchanter that I should find Arabella beneath these trees."
"Fie, fie!" cried Arabella, "you are an impostor, Seymour, and would have me think that love can work miracles, in order to cheat me into the belief that ours can be happy. How was it, in sober truth, you knew that I was here?"