Audrey

When the gold piece was held out to her, she took it, having earned it;

when the little speech with which the lady gave the guinea was ended, she

was ready with her curtsy and her "Thank you, ma'am." The red came into

her cheeks because she was not used to so many eyes upon her, but she did

not blush for her bare feet, nor for her dress that had slipped low over

her shoulder, nor for the fact that she had run her swiftest five times

around the Maypole, all for the love of a golden guinea, and for mere

youth and pure-minded ignorance, and the springtime in the pulses.

The gold piece lay within her brown fingers a thought too lightly, for as

she stepped back from the row of gentlefolk it slid from her hand to the

ground. A gentleman, sitting beside the lady who had spoken to her,

stooped, and picking up the money gave it again into her hand. Though she

curtsied to him, she did not look at him, but turned away, glad to be quit

of all the eyes, and in a moment had slipped into the crowd from which she

had come. It was midday, and old Israel, the fisherman, who had brought

her and the Widow Constance's Barbara up the river in his boat, would be

going back with the tide. She was not loath to leave: the green meadow,

the gaudy Maypole, and the music were good, but the silence on the river,

the shadow of the brooding forest, the darting of the fish hawk, were

better.

In the meadow the boys' race and the rustic dance were soon over. The

dinner at the Jaquelin house to its guests lasted longer, but it too was

hurried; for in the afternoon Mr. Harrison's mare Nelly was to run against

Major Burwell's Fearnaught, and the stakes were heavy.

Not all of the company went from the banquet back to the meadow, where the

humbler folk, having eaten their dinner of bread and meat and ale, were

whiling away with sports of their own the hour before the race. Colonel

Byrd had business at Williamsburgh, and must reach his lodgings there an

hour before sunset. His four black horses brought to the door the great

vermilion-and-cream coach; an ebony coachman in scarlet cracked his whip

at a couple of negro urchins who had kept pace with the vehicle as it

lumbered from the stables, and a light brown footman flung open the door

and lowered the steps. The Colonel, much regretting that occasion should

call him away, vowed that he had never spent a pleasanter May Day, kissed

the May Queen's hand, and was prodigal of well-turned compliments, like

the gay and gallant gentleman that he was. His daughter made her graceful

adieux in her clear, low, and singularly sweet voice, and together they

were swallowed up of the mammoth coach. Mr. Haward took snuff with Mr.

Jaquelin; then, mounting his horse,--it was supposed that he too had

business in Williamsburgh,--raised his hat and bade farewell to the

company with one low and comprehensive bow.