And lo! from behind a
certain tree stepped one who, letting fall shrouding cloak and hood, stood
there a maid, dark-haired and darkly bright of eye, very shapely and fair
to see in her simple tire. And beholding her thus, the tender curve of
scarlet lips, the flutter of slender hands, the languorous bewitchment of
her eyes, Sir Pertinax halted.
My daughter GILLIAN interpolateth:
GILL:
What, again? Father, that will never do.
Don't make him halt again, I beg of you.
Sir Pertinax has halted much too long,
To make him do it here would be quite
wrong!
MYSELF:
My child, I wish you would not interrupt
My halting muse in manner so abrupt--
GILL:
But here 's a chance at last to let them kiss,
And now you make him halt!
MYSELF: Exactly, miss!
Sir Pertinax halted and bowed his head abashed.
My daughter GILLIAN persisteth:
GILL:
Well, father, while he halts, then tell me,
pray,
Just what you mean by that line where you
say,
'The languorous bewitchment of her eyes'?
MYSELF:
My child, no child should authors catechise,
Especially, poor fellow, if, like me,
Father and author both at once is he.
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