The Dragon of Wantley Part 7

He stopped at once, and stood looking at her. His breast-plate and gauntlets were down on the floor, so his muscles might have more easy play in dealing with the bars. Elaine noticed that the youth's s.h.i.+rt was of very costly Eastern silk.

"I was thinking of getting out," he said at length, still standing and looking at her.

"I thought I might--that is--you might----" began Miss Elaine, and stopped. Upon which another silence followed.

"Lady, who sent you here?" he inquired.

"Oh, they don't know!" she replied, hastily; and then, seeing how bright his face became, and hearing her own words, she looked down, and the crimson went over her cheeks as he watched her.

"Oh, if I could get out!" he said, desperately. "Lady, what is your name, if I might be so bold."

"My name, sir, is Elaine. Perhaps there is a key somewhere," she said.

"And I am called Geoffrey," he said, in reply.

"I think we might find a key," Elaine repeated.

She turned towards the other side of the room, and there hung a great bunch of bra.s.s keys dangling from the lock of a heavy door.

Ah, Hubert! thou art more careless than Brother Clement, I think, to have left those keys in such a place!

Quickly did Elaine cross to that closed door, and laid her hand upon the bunch. The door came open the next moment, and she gave a shriek to see the skin of a huge lizard-beast fall forward at her feet, and also many cups and flagons, that rolled over the floor, dotting it with little drops of wine.

Hearing Elaine shriek, and not able to see from his prison what had befallen her, Geoffrey shouted out in terror to know if she had come to any hurt.

"No," she told him; and stood eyeing first the crocodile's hide and then the cups, setting her lips together very firmly. "And they were not even dry," she said after a while. For she began to guess a little of the truth.

"Not dry? Who?" inquired Geoffrey.

"Oh, Geoffrey!" she burst out in deep anger, and then stopped, bewildered. But his heart leaped to hear her call his name.

"Are there no keys?" he asked.

"Keys? Yes!" she cried, and, running with them back to the bars, began trying one after another in trembling haste till the lock clicked pleasantly, and out marched young Geoffrey.

Now what do you suppose this young man did when he found himself free once more, and standing close by the lovely young person to whom he owed his liberty? Did he place his heels together, and let his arms hang gracefully, and so bow with respect and a manner at once dignified and urbane, and say, "Miss Elaine, permit me to thank you for being so kind as to let me out of prison?" That is what he ought to have done, of course, if he had known how to conduct himself like a well-brought-up young man. But I am sorry to have to tell you that Geoffrey did nothing of the sort, but, instead of that, behaved in a most outrageous manner. He did not thank her at all. He did not say one single word to her. He simply put one arm round her waist and gave her a kiss!

"Geoffrey!" she murmured, "don't!"

But Geoffrey did, with the most astonis.h.i.+ng and complacent disobedience.

"Oh, Geoffrey!" she whispered, looking the other way, "how wrong of you! And of me!" she added a little more softly still, escaping from him suddenly, and facing about.

"I don't see that," said Geoffrey. "I love you, Elaine. Elaine, darling, I----"

"Oh, but you mustn't!" answered she, stepping back as he came nearer.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Geoffrey tuggeth at the Bars]

This was simply frightful! And so sudden. To think of her--Elaine!--but she couldn't think at all. Happy? Why, how wicked!

How had she ever----

"No, you must not," she repeated, and backed away still farther.

"But I will!" said this lover, quite loudly, and sprang so quickly to where she stood that she was in his arms again, and this time without the faintest chance of getting out of them until he should choose to free her.

It was no use to struggle now, and she was still, like some wild bird.

But she knew that she was really his, and was glad of it. And she looked up at him and said, very softly, "Geoffrey, we are wasting time."

"Oh, no, not at all," said Geoffrey.

"But we are."

"Say that you love me."

"But haven't I--ah, Geoffrey, please don't begin again."

"Say that you love me."

She did.

Then, taking his hand, she led him to the door she had opened. He stared at the crocodile, at the wine-cups, and then he picked up a sheet of iron and a metal torch.

"I suppose it is their museum," he said; "don't you?"

"Their museum! Geoffrey, think a little."

"They seem to keep very good wine," he remarked, after smelling at the demijohn.

"Don't you see? Can't you understand?" she said.

"No, not a bit. What's that thing, do you suppose?" he added, giving the crocodile a kick.

"Oh, me, but men are simple, men are simple!" said Elaine, in despair.

"Geoffrey, listen! That wine is my father's wine, from his own cellar.

There is none like it in all England."

"Then I don't see why he gave it to a parcel of monks," replied the young man.

Elaine clasped her hands in hopelessness, gave him a kiss, and became mistress of the situation.

"Now, Geoffrey," she said, "I will tell you what you and I have really found out." Then she quickly recalled all the recent events. How her father's cellar had been broken into; how Mistletoe had been chained to a rock for a week and no dragon had come near her. She bade him remember how just now Father Anselm had opposed every plan for meeting the Dragon, and at last she pointed to the crocodile.

"Ha!" said Geoffrey, after thinking for a s.p.a.ce. "Then you mean----"

"Of course I do," she interrupted. "The Dragon of Wantley is now down-stairs with papa eating dinner, and pretending he never drinks anything stronger than water. What do you say to that, sir?"

"This is a foul thing!" cried the knight. "Here have I been d.a.m.nably duped. Here----" but speech deserted him. He glared at the crocodile with a bursting countenance, then drove his toe against it with such vigour that it sailed like a foot-ball to the farther end of the hall.