"And why?"
"Because—because—because—I am your knight," he said, desperately, "and I cannot see any harm come to you, and your happiness wrecked by marrying such. If you only knew the Lanyans as I know them."
"Perhaps my happiness would not be wrecked."
"Ah, but it shall not be. It must not be."
"You have given me no reason why it should not. Should not a child obey her father?"
Her eyes were glowing mischievously.
"Alice, Alice, if you will not listen to reason, it is because I say so, and I—I—I—love you. Oh! Alice, I have wanted to tell you so long—but the stain of treason—but give me at least hope that if the stain be removed—and it shall—that I shall not love you in vain."
The hue of Mistress Alice's cheeks rivalled her own roses. She fought down the exultant, happy feeling within, and strove to be her former self; yes, even strove to be angry, but what woman is angry when told that she is loved.
"There is father. Calm yourself, or he will notice you."
Coming over the green terrace was the stout frame of old Squire Vivian, most unwelcome sight at this hour, at least to Ande. His question was doomed to remain unanswered. The squire greeted him in his bluff, cheery manner, asked him of the school and his progress. The excellent reports he had received from Master Trewan had inclined him a little more favourably to his protégé. Taking advantage of the presence of her father, Mistress Alice slipped away and hid herself in the privacy of her own rooms.