“Will you, sirrah, or will you not?”

He raised his hand and repeated the words.

“Now hold her as before,” I ordered, and, straightening myself in the saddle, rode on, with my eyes once more on the path before me.

A mile further on, Mistress Percy stirred and raised her head from my shoulder. “Not at Jamestown yet?” she sighed, as yet but half awake. “Oh, the endless trees! I dreamed I was hawking at Windsor, and then suddenly I was here in this forest, a bird, happy because I was free; and then a falcon came swooping down upon me, — it had me in its talons, and I changed to myself again, and it changed to — What am I saying? I am talking in my sleep. Who is that singing?”