"'We? who was with thee, sister?"
"Philip," she answered very softly, and there was something in the tender intonation with which she spoke the name that told a tale Cuthbert was not slow to read. He had guessed as much before, but this made assurance doubly sure; and with the sympathy of the ardent young lover, he put his hand on Petronella's and pressed it tenderly. She understood the meaning of that clasp, and looked gratefully at him, going on with more confidence afterwards.
"It was with Philip that he found me; and the sight filled him with a sullen fury--the fury that thou knowest, brother, which brooks no opposition, no words. He would not hear Philip speak. He struck him on the mouth--a cruel blow that caused the blood to spring forth; and he dragged me away by main force, and locked me up in the pillared chamber, vowing to keep me a prisoner all my life an I would not promise never to speak with Philip again."
"And thou?"
"I told him I would promise naught save to meet him no more in the forest. I was glad to promise that; for I feared our savage father might kill him in a fit of fury were he to find us again together. I should have been terrified to wander forth with him more. I promised that, but I would promise no more."
"And did that satisfy him?" asked Cuthbert breathlessly. "Tell me all, my sister. He did not dare lay hands on thee?"
Petronella smiled faintly.
"Methinks he would dare anything he wished; but he let himself be satisfied with that pledge. Only he kept me many days in that dim place of terror, and gave me but scant prisoner's fare the while. Cuthbert, as thou art free and thou art nigh, wilt thou to Trevlyn Chase for me ere thou goest back into the forest, and tell Philip what has befallen me, and that I may no more hope to meet him in our favourite haunts? Tell him all I have told to thee, and bid him keep himself from this house. It is an ill place! an ill place! Ah, Cuthbert, were I but a man like thee, I would fare forth as thou hast done. I would not stay beneath yon roof to be starved in soul and body and spirit. O father, father!"
The cry was one of exceeding bitterness, and yet in it spoke a patience that moved Cuthbert strangely.
"Sister, my sister!" he cried, in accents of suppressed agitation, "I know not how to leave thee here. Petronella, why not forth with me to the forest? Sure I could protect thee there and give thee a better home beneath the greenwood trees than our father does beneath yon grim walls. And, sister, I could take thee to our uncle, Martin Holt. Sure he would give thee asylum with him, as he gave to me. Thou wouldst have Cherry for a sister. Thou--"