 unless it be a tame one - and so I crept on and
on, till I was within three score yards of him, and then whiz went the bolt, and
there he lies, faith! Was it not well shot? - and, I daresay, I have not shot in
a crossbow - not ten times maybe.«
    »Admirably shot indeed,« said Ravenswood; »and you will be a fine marksman
if you practise hard.«
    »And that's what Norman says,« answered the boy; »but I am sure it is not my
fault if I do not practise enough; for, of free will, I would do little else,
only my father and tutor are angry sometimes, and only Miss Lucy there gives
herself airs about my being busy, for all she can sit idle by a well-side the
whole day, when she has a handsome young gentleman to prate with - I have known
her do so twenty times, if you will believe me.«
    The boy looked at his sister as he spoke, and in the midst of his
mischievous chatter, had the sense to see that he was really inflicting pain
upon her, though without being able to comprehend the cause or the amount.
    »Come now, Lucy,« he said, »don't greet; and if I have said any thing beside
the mark, I'll deny it again - and what does the Master of Ravenswood care if
you had a hundred sweethearts? so ne'er put finger in your eye about it.«
    The Master of Ravenswood was, for the moment, scarce satisfied with what he
heard; yet his good sense naturally regarded it as the chatter of a spoilt boy,
who strove to mortify his sister in the point which seemed most accessible for
the time. But, although of a temper equally slow in receiving impressions, and
obstinate in retaining them, the prattle of Henry served to nourish in his mind
some vague suspicion, that his present engagement might only end in his being
exposed like a conquered enemy in a Roman triumph, a captive attendant on the
car of a victor, who meditated only the satiating his pride at the expense of
the vanquished. There was, we repeat it, no real ground whatever for such an
apprehension, nor could he be said seriously to entertain such for a moment.
Indeed, it was impossible to look at the clear blue eye of Lucy Ashton, and
entertain the slightest permanent doubt concerning the sincerity of her
disposition. Still, however, conscious pride and conscious poverty combined to
render a mind suspicious
