The Admirable Bashville
LYDIA. I am.
CASHEL. Accursed luck! I took you for The daughter of some farmer. Well, your pardon. I came too close: I looked too deep. Farewell.
LYDIA. I pardon that. Now tell me who you are.
CASHEL. Ask me not whence I come, nor what I am. You are the lady of the castle. I Have but this hard and blackened hand to live by.
LYDIA. I have felt its strength and envied you. Your name? I have told you mine.
CASHEL. My name is Cashel Byron.
LYDIA. I never heard the name; and yet you utter it As men announce a celebrated name. Forgive my ignorance.
CASHEL. I bless it, Lydia. I have forgot your other name.
LYDIA. Carew. Cashel's a pretty name, too.
MELLISH [calling through the wood]. Coo-ee! Byron!
CASHEL. A thousand curses! Oh, I beg you, go. This is a man you must not meet.
MELLISH [further off]. Coo-ee!
LYDIA. He's losing us. What does he in my woods?
CASHEL. He is a part of what