"I forget nothing!" was the bitter answer, "and will bate nothing—not a jot, not a jot."
Storms was half way to the door, as he said this, with the paper grasped tightly in his hand.
"But where are you going?" pleaded Judith, following him. "Is there nothing more to say?"
"Only this," answered Storms, struck by a shrewd after-thought; "it is better that you leave the 'Two Ravens' at once. It is not from the tap-room of an inn that a gentleman must take his wife."
Judith looked at him searchingly. There seemed to be reason in his suggestion; still she doubted him.
"Where would you have me go, Richard? Back to the old home?"
Storms reflected a moment before he answered.
"It isn't a palace or a castle, like the one you mean to get out of that paper," Judith said, impatient of his silence, "but, poor as it was, you liked to come there, and the old father would be glad and proud to be standing by when we are wedded."
"Yes, I dare say he would be that," answered Storms, with an uneasy smile. "Well, as you wish it, the old home is perhaps as safe a place as you could stay in."
"But it will not be for long—you promise that?" questioned the girl, anxiously.