"
Thus we walked together through a fairy world, the Imp and I, while
above the murmur of the waters, above the sighing of the trees, came
the soft, tremulous melody of the violins.
"I do wish I had lived when there were knights like Ivanhoe," burst
out the Imp suddenly; "it must have been fine to knock a man off
his horse with your lance."
"Always supposing he didn't knock you off first, Imp."
"Oh! I should have been the sort of knight that nobody could knock
off, you know. An' I'd have wandered about on my faithful charger,
fighting all sorts of caddish barons, and caitiffs, an' slaying
giants; an' I'd have rescued lovely ladies from castles grim
- though I wouldn't have put my arm round them, of course!"
"Perish the thought, my Imp!"
"Uncle Dick!" he said, insinuatingly, "I do wish you'd be the Black
Knight, an' let me be Ivanhoe."
"But there are no caitiffs and things left for us to fight, Imp,
and no lovely ladies to rescue from castles grim, alas!"
Now we had been walking on, drawn almost imperceptibly by the magic
thread of the melody, which had led us, by devious paths, to a low
stone wall, beyond which we could see the gleam of lighted windows
and the twinkle of fairy-lamps among the trees.
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