“My house! Well, my lord, and am I a house?”
He kissed the slender hand on the window ledge. It reached just to his lips.
“Nay, I swear you are a goddess. It could not be possible that one so good and fair would favor an evil cause.”
“Evil? Ah, then, my lord, is the cause of my house an evil one?”
He looked up into her eyes earnestly.
“I should be a traitor, my lady, did I take advantage of the friendly hospitality your house has offered me to repay it by sowing seeds of mischief.”
“But if the seeds were not mischievous, my lord? If they were worthy and good?”
He dropped her hand abruptly, and paced for a time up and down the small grass-grown walk beneath her window.
In the shadow of the room behind the Lady Wistaria another face appeared for the space of a moment only. Long, lean, cadaverous it was, wherein fierce eyes burned like living coals. With a shudder, Wistaria clutched her hand over her heart. Back to her casement came the lover.
“My sweetest girl, do not let us discuss so melancholy a subject.”