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“Yes； miss； the Turkish Knight；” he replied diffidently。
“Is yours a long part？”
“Nine speeches； about。”
“Can you repeat them to me？ If so I should like to hear them。”
The lad smiled into the glowing turf and began—
“Here e I； a Turkish Knight；
Who learnt in Turkish land to fight；”
continuing the discourse throughout the scenes to the concluding catastrophe of his fall by the hand of Saint George。
Eustacia had occasionally heard the part recited before。 When the lad ended she began； precisely in the same words； and ranted on without hitch or divergence till she too reached the end。 It was the same thing； yet how different。 Like in form； it had the added softness and finish of a Raffaelle after Perugino； which； while faithfully reproducing the original subject； entirely distances the original art。
Charley’s eyes rounded with surprise。 “Well； you be a clever lady！” he said； in admiration。 “I’ve been three weeks learning mine。”
“I have heard it before；” she quietly observed。
“Now； would you do anything to please me； Charley？”
“I’d do a good deal； miss。”
“Would you let me play your part for one night？”
“Oh； miss！ But your woman’s gown—you couldn’t。”
“I can get boy’s clothes—at least all that would be wanted besides the mumming dress。 What should I have to give you to lend me your things； to let me take your place for an hour or two on Monday night； and on no account to say a word about who or what I am？ You would； of course； have to excuse yourself from playing that night； and to say that somebody—a cousin of Miss Vye’s—would act for you。 The other mummers have never spoken to me in their lives so that it would be safe enough； and if it were not； I should not mind。 Now； what must I give you to agree to this？ Half a crown？”
The youth shook his head
“Five shillings？”
He shook his head again。 “Money won’t do it；” he said； brushing the iron head of the firedog with the hollow of his hand。
“What will； then； Charley？” said Eustacia in a disappointed tone。
“You know what you forbade me at the Maypoling； miss；” murmured the lad； without looking at her； and still stroking the firedog’s head。
“Yes；” said Eustacia； with a little more hauteur。
“You wanted to join hands with me in the ring； if I recollect？”
“Half an hour of that； and I’ll agree； miss。”
Eustacia regarded the youth steadfastly。 He was three years younger than herself； but apparently not backward for his age。 “Half an hour of what？” she said； though she guessed what。
“Holding your hand in mine。”
She was silent。 “Make it a quarter of an hour；” she said
“Yes； Miss Eustacia—I will； if I may kiss it too。 A quarter of an hour。 And I’ll swear to do the best I can to let you take my place without anybody knowing。 Don’t you think somebody might know your tongue； miss？”
“It is possible。 But I will put a pebble in my mouth to make is less likely。 Very well； you shall be allowed to have my hand as soon as you bring the dress and your sword and staff。 I don’t want you any longer now。”
Charley departed； and Eustacia felt more and more interest in life。 Here was something to do： here was some one to see； and a charmingly adventurous way to see him。 “Ah；” she said to herself； “want of an object to live for—that’s all is the matter with me！”
Eustacia’s manner was as a rule of a slumberous sort； her passions being of the massive rather than the vivacious kind。 But when aroused she would make a dash which； just for the time； was not unlike the move of a naturally lively person。
On the question of recognition she was somewhat indifferent。
By the acting lads themselves she was not likely to be known。
With the guests who might be assembled she was hardly so secure。
Yet detection； after all； would be no such dreadful thing。
The fact only could be detected； her true motive never。 It would be instantly set down as the passing freak of a girl whose ways were already considered singular。 That she was doing for an earnest reason what would most naturally be done in jest was at any rate a safe secret。
The next evening Eustacia stood punctually at the fuelhouse door； waiting for the dusk which was to bring Charley with the trappings。 Her grandfather was at home tonight； and she would be unable to ask her confederate indoors。
He appeared on the dark ridge of heathland； like a fly on a Negro； bearing the articles with him； and came up breathless with his walk。
“Here are the things；” he whispered； placing them upon
the threshold。 “And now； Miss Eustacia—“
“The payment。 It is quite ready。 I am as good as my word。”
She leant against the door…post； and gave him her hand。 Charley took it in both his own with a tenderness beyond description； unless it was like that of a child holding a captured sparrow。
“Why； there’s a glove on it！” he said in a deprecating way。
“I have been walking；” she observed。
“But； miss！”
“Well—it is hardly fair。” She pulled off the glove； and gave him her bare hand。
They stood together minute after minute； without further speech； each looking at the blackening scene； and each thinking his and her own thoughts。
“I think I won’t use it all up tonight；” said Charley devotedly； when six or eight minutes had been passed by him caressing her hand。 “May I have the other few minutes another time？”
“As you like；” said she without the least emotion。 “But it must be over in a week。 Now； there is only one thing I want you to do—to wait while I put on the dress； and then to see if I do my part properly。 But let me look first indoors。”
She vanished for a minute or two； and went in。 Her grandfather was safely asleep in his chair。 “Now； then；” she said； on returning； “walk down the garden a little way； and when I am ready I’ll call you。”
Charley walked and waited； and presently heard a soft whistle。
He returned to the fuelhouse door。
“Did you whistle； Miss Vye？”
“Yes； e in；” reached him in Eustacia’s voice from a back quarter。 “I must not strike a light till the door is shut； or it may be seen shining。 Push your hat into the hole through to the wash…house； if you can feel your way across。”
Charley did as manded； and she struck the light revealing herself to be changed in sex； brilliant in colours； and armed from top to toe。 Perhaps she quailed a little under Charley’s vigorous gaze； but whether any shyness at her male attire appeared upon her countenance could not be seen by reason of the strips of ribbon which used to cover the face in mumming costumes； representing the barred visor of the mediaeval helmet。
“It fits pretty well；” she said； looking down at the white overalls； “except that the tunic； or whatever you call it； is long in the sleeve。 The bottom of the overalls I can turn up inside。 Now pay attention。”
Eustacia then proceeded in her delivery； striking the sword against the staff or lance at the minatory phrases； in the orthodox mumming manner； and strutting up and down。 Charley seasoned his admiration with criticism of the gentlest kind； for the touch of Eustacia’s hand yet remained with him。
“And now for your excuse to the others；” she said。
“Where