"Why!" said Sir Richard, "and did you not know, dear Rocelia, that since that night I have been avowed champion of yours?"
"Sire——"
"Call me not sire, dear. Name me Richard," the young knight whispered, trying vainly to imprison her hand. "God wot, an you still wish to leave, I will bear me away this time the proper maiden!"
"Then ... was it indeed thou," Rocelia whispered, half weeping, half laughing, "who bore away my cousin Isabel?"
"Did you not know?" said Sir Richard.
"I but knew that she had gone ... with some knight, I thought it was ... and that it had been her choice to go. She was ever unhappy after we came from London. Oh! sire ... much do I regret that thou hast been made the target of one of her mad pranks."
"Let me but once hear Richard on your lips, Rocelia," pleaded the young knight.
"I dare not," said she, with an affrighted glance toward her sleeping grandam.
"I lay command upon you," said Sir Richard feigning to be stern.
"Well, then ... Richard," said she in the softest of whispers.