"What a sweet voice you have, Rose Marie," he said in that even, gentle voice with which he usually addressed her and which seemed to her veiled with studied coldness, "and 'tis a tender song which you sang."
"It pleases me, my lord, that it should find favour with you," she replied demurely, the while she allowed her long lashes to veil the light of excitement which danced in her eyes.
"Nay! who am I that you should try to please me, dear heart?" he said a trifle sadly, "rather is it I who with my whole mind and soul and strength should strive to make you happy."
"That were not very difficult, my lord."
She would then and there have liked to give her excitement fuller rein, to jump up, to clasp her hands together and to look up into his grave face and say: "Only, only be kind and gentle to me, give me as much love as ever you can—I am prepared to be the truest, most devoted, most loving wife that e'er strove to be a joy to her lord. Give me sunshine, and gaiety and laughter, and what meed of love you are able to give."
But she did not quite dare to say and do all that, for maman's admonitions were still fresh in her mind, and her guardian angel would of a surety have had to veil his face again before this unseemly behaviour on the part of his turbulent charge.
Therefore she added somewhat tamely:
"I have been taught to be easily contented, and meseems that by honouring me with your love, you, my lord, would be doing all that God doth ask of you."
Though she had spoken lightly, almost flippantly, for her heart was glad, and her mind free from any presage of sorrow, his face, which all along had been passing grave now looked deeply troubled at her words.