She leaned back against the wall of the porch.
“My father—” she began.
“Rosamund, I have his leave.”
“How can I answer since you yourself forbid me?”
“Till this time to-morrow only. Meanwhile, I pray you hear me, Rosamund. I am your cousin, and we were brought up together—indeed, except when I was away at the Scottish war, we have never been apart. Therefore, we know each other well, as well as any can who are not wedded. Therefore, too, you will know that I have always loved you, first as a brother loves his sister, and now as a man loves a woman.”
“Nay, Godwin, I knew it not; indeed, I thought that, as it used to be, your heart was other-where.”
“Other-where? What lady—?”
“Nay, no lady; but in your dreams.”
“Dreams? Dreams of what?”
“I cannot say. Perchance of things that are not here—things higher than the person of a poor maid.”