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