Then the Duke bowed haughtily, and gave his horse both rein and whip; and the angry thoughts in his heart were, “What a proud, perverse unmanageable creature! He was as ready to strike as to speak. If I had been equally uncivilised, we should have come to blows as easily as words. I am sorry I have had any dealings with the fellow. Julia warned me–a man ought to take his wife’s advice wherever women are factors in a question. Confound the whole race of country squires!–they make all the trouble that is made.”
Squire Atheling had not any more pleasant thoughts about dukes; but they were an undercurrent, his daughter dominated them. He dreaded his next interview with her, but was not inclined to put it off, even when he found her, on his return home, with Mrs. Atheling. She had been weeping; she hardly dried her tears on his approach. Her lovely face was flushed and feverish; she had the look of a rose blown by a stormy wind. He pushed his chair to her side, and gently drew her on to his knees, and put his arm around her, as he said,–
“My little girl, I am sorry! I am sorry! But it has to be, Kitty. There is no hope, and I will not fool thee with false promises. I have just had a talk with Richmoor. He was very rude, very rude indeed, to thy father.” She did not speak or lift her eyes; and the Squire continued, “He used a word about a marriage with thee that I would not permit. I had to bring him to his senses.”
“Oh, Father!”
“Would you have me sit quiet and hear the Athelings made little of.”
“No, Father.”
“I thought not.”
“After what the Duke has said to me, there can be no thought of marriage between Piers and thee. Give him up, now and forever.”
“I cannot.”
“But thou must.”