"I have ever striven to please you, dear father,—to be dutiful and kind—but—but——"
"But me no buts—thou silly giglet."
"Father, I am your child——"
"I hope so, though of late I've had my doubts of it. Well, then, as my child thou art bound to obey me."
"But surely not in all things?" said Sybilla, whoso tears fell fast.
"In all things!" reiterated this despotic old baron, who had the power of life and death, pit and gallows, over all in Strathearn, and yearly took by force the best horse and fattest cow from every tenant there as a herezeld: "if the greatest of my vassals is bound to obey me to the death—yea, to obey or swing on the nearest branch,—how much more ought thou and Euphemia, who are my own daughters? A curse on the hour such brittle ware as daughters came into the house of Drummond!"
"I have no desire to wed," said Sybilla, making a violent effort to control her tears, for many eyes were upon her, "none! let me abide with you, dearest father, and little Elizabeth and Beatrix, in bonnie Strathearn; for I have no wish to leave your hearth and home; I have no wish for wealth, and no desire for rank."
"Rank—what do you mean by rank? My daughters require not that," said the old chief, clanking his enormous spurs on the floor.
"But if you think over-many of us are growing up to woman's estate, let me retire into a convent, where, by teaching others to embroider, to illuminate, and to write, I may maintain myself with utility; hear me, dearest father!"
"A convent, Sybie?"