Una glided to the window and looked out into the wood, her head leaning on her arm.
“Una,” he said, suddenly, his voice troubled and grave, but not unkind.
She started, and looked around at him; her spirit had fled back to the lake again, and she had almost forgotten that he was in the room.
“Una, you must not wander in the forest alone again.”
“No! Why not?”
He hesitated a moment, as if he did not know how to answer her; then he said, with a frown:
“Because I do not wish it—because the man you saw here last night, the man you were with by the lake, may come again”—a faint light of gladness shone in her eyes, and he saw it, and frowned sternly as he went on—“and I do not wish you to meet him.”
She was silent for a moment, her eyes downcast, her hands tightly clasped in front of her; then she looked up.
“Father, tell me why you spoke so angrily to him—why do you not want him to come to Warden again?”
“I spoke as he deserved,” he answered; “and I would rather that Warden should be filled with wild beasts than that he should cross your path again.”