"But we are not little children now!" he answered me, with a strange break in his voice. "We are not children now, and never can be again: and oh, Rosamond, I have been cherishing such sweet hopes ever since I heard that you had given up being a nun!"
I don't know what more he might have said, but my father came in just then, and would have all the news of Dick's journey; and we were not alone again.
"Richard and my Lord rode one stage with us beyond Biddeford. My Lord and my father were deep in converse (the roads being good for the first stage, we were able to ride two abreast), and Richard rode by my side, Harry as usual being close to my mother. But there was little chance for any private converse, and I think we were both very silent. My Lord would send one of his own men with us as an additional guard, though methinks our own three, with my father and Harry, should be enough.
"I would loan you Dick here, but that he is my right-hand man—I cannot spare him," said my Lord, as we parted. "Take care of your heart, my fair cousin, and do not lose it to any of the Cornish knights. Remember, 'Better a poor neighbor than a rich stranger.'"
"Aye, my Lord, but there is another proverb—'Better kind strangers than strange kin,'" I answered.
"What, have you and Dick quarrelled? Nay, I shall not have that!" whispered my Lord in mine ear, as he gave my cheek a parting salute. "Be kind to him, my Rose of May! He was faithful to you when he had many a temptation to be otherwise."
Richard kissed my cheek, as usual, at parting, but there was that in his look and the pressure of his hand—
[I don't know why I should have drawn my pen through this, as it seems I did. I suppose I could not yet feel that 'twas no sin to think of my cousin. I knew then that Dick loved me, and from my Lord's whisper, I could guess well enough that he was no ways averse to the match, and yet I felt, I know not how, as if I had committed a mortal sin for which yet I could not repent. The truth was, I could not yet quite come to feel that I was a free woman, at least under no law but my father's will. I know I rode in a kind of dream all the rest of that day.]
We reached the end of our stage about four of the clock, tired and wearied enough, yet with no adventures more than those which I believe befall all travellers, of tired beasts and men, plentiful splashes of mud, and once or twice a horse stuck fast in the mire and hardly got out again. Cousin Joslyn being with us, we were in no danger of missing the road, as we should otherwise have been, and our numbers were great enough to keep in awe any bands of robbers that we were likely to meet in these parts.
We stayed the first night at a farm-house, where the good yeoman and his wife made us heartily welcome to the best they had of fowls, bacon, clotted cream, and I know not what country dainties, and we in return for their hospitality told them the last news from London and the Court. They had heard something even in this odd corner of the world of the good Queen's disgrace, and the women were eager for particulars.