The child was always in much awe of her father, and nothing but the hot impulse of her anger would have made her burst out as she had done.
She now hung her head a little lower, but looking up shyly after a moment, she said, in a soft, winning tone,--
"But, father, think of it! You are noble, and would never injure your foe save in fair fight and face to face. How I wish all this fighting was over, and there were no such things as foes. Oh dear," she sighed, "I am so tired of it all!"
"Tush, child, you should not have come away from Appuldurcombe: the sisters should not let you roam like this."
"'Twasn't their fault, father; I stole out to help John see to the cows, and then I thought I would come on over here and see you."
"But, by St George, thou must not play these pranks, little wench. Thou hast had too much freedom by far. No marvel," he broke off, with a fierce look of anger, "when thou hast been left to bring thyself up, with only such care as I can give thee."
"But, father, thou dost not like that Bowerman?"
"Marry, wench, what is that to thee? He is a friend to the cause, and, though young, is useful, and may be more so. How know I whether he gave the stroke or not? Wait till thou knowest before thou judgest."
"Ay, but I know full well," added the girl, under her breath, not, however, daring to speak her thoughts aloud.
At this moment a noise was heard outside.