“I will go away to Cousin Ellice,” she said; “I will go at once. Father cannot know of Sir Mark’s behaviour. I cannot, I will not, believe it,” she cried, passionately. “I would not marry Gil without his consent, but I cannot listen to this man.
“Why, one would think I was some weak girl such as we read of in the old ballad stories!” she cried, with a laugh that was more like a hysterical cry, and, hastily washing away the traces of her tears, she determined to make a bold effort to show Sir Mark that his case was hopeless, and descended to the parlour to gather up and restore the pearls.
All thought of the jewels, though, was chased away by the sight of her father just seating himself for a rest and a smoke; and, smoothing her face, she went up to him, and stood by his side with her hands resting upon his shoulder.
“Are you tired, dear?” she said, passing her cool hand across his brow.
“Very, child,” he replied, drawing her to him, so that she was seated upon his knee, with her head leaning against his cheek.
“You work so hard now,” she continued. “This great order makes you so busy.”
“Yes,” he said, laughing; “but it is for honour and wealth, child. It is a great thing, and Sir Mark as good as promises that I shall be Master of Ordnance to the King.”
“Are Sir Mark’s promises all to be believed?” said Mace, quietly.
“To be sure! Yes, of course, child. He is a noble gentleman, of goodly birth, and when thou art his wife—”
He stopped short, for the words he had been trying to say had suddenly slipped from his lips, and he was startled by the manner in which his child leaped from his side, to stand staring down at him with flashing eyes.