"But, my ladye fair, I would fain have you overjoyed to see me this morning, for I bring news which will perhaps lead your father to look more favourably on my suit," continued Ralph. "But perchance that is news you would therefore be ill-pleased to hear," he added.
Aliva tossed her head with a laugh in her eyes.
"Try me, Sir Knight," she said--"say on your news," and her face lit up again with pleasure.
"One point in my fate still remains unchanged," Ralph went on. "A soldier of fortune I am, and such I must continue; there is no fresh news on that score. If you will wed me, dear heart, you will still have to wed one who must depend on his own right arm. But now I see a chance before me of exerting that right arm."
For the moment, however, the member to which he alluded had found its way round Aliva's waist, and did not appear to exert itself any further for the time being.
"Now that I have received my knightly rank," Ralph continued, "I have a hope, also, of active service. The king, as I have lately heard, meditates an expedition across the Border to punish the Scots, and a great council of the nation is to be summoned to meet at Northampton in the summer. When once the business is arranged, and the royal forces set forth for the north, methinks I am sure of a good post. My uncle's weight and interest have not been utterly lost, though he has been driven from the home of our ancestors. When he begs for a command for a De Beauchamp, the king surely cannot say him nay. And then, when the war is over, when we have taught the Scots a lesson, in a few months I shall come again, my Aliva, and come no longer penniless and unknown, but with rank, position, the promise of further employment, and perhaps, if fortune favours me--for I will do all man can dare to do--with some deed of glory, some honour not unworthy to lay at your feet as a wedding-gift. Oh say, Aliva, your father will hearken then?"
Aliva had not spoken, had not interrupted him. She stood, her eyes cast on the ground, a fierce struggle going on within her. As a daughter, she felt that she ought not to have allowed this stolen interview against her father's wishes. She ought to have fled by the turret-stair, with merely a courteous salutation for her visitor. Yet there he stood, this penniless young knight, by her side, his arm round her waist, and his large gray eyes gazing with devotion and love into her face. Moreover, he was telling her of a soldier's duties; he spoke of war and danger. What could she do? She was but a woman, warm-hearted and also of impulsive nature. The court-yard was clear, for Dicky Dumpling had hobbled off to the stables with the gray mare. For all answer she laid her head upon his shoulder and her right hand sought his left--the one, be it remembered, that was disengaged.
It was but for a moment, however, and then it was not only maidenly instinct which made her draw herself free from his embrace.
"Ugh!" she exclaimed; "where in the name of all that's marvellous have you been this morning, Ralph? You are dripping wet, or at least anything but dry!"
"Have no fear, lady; I have had no worse encounter than one with our old river this morning, and I crave your forgiveness for thus presenting myself, for time brooked no delay. But I bear evil tidings for the ears of a devout daughter of Holy Church," he continued; and he told her the story of De Breauté's impious raid upon St. Alban's Abbey.