“The quarter of an hour is passed, sir,” said Joseph coldly, as he entered.
Kenneth made no sign that he heard. He sat on like a man in a dream. His eyes that saw nothing were bent upon Gregory's pale, flabby face.
“The quarter of an hour is passed, sir,” Joseph repeated in a louder voice.
Kenneth looked up, then rose and sighed, passing his hand wearily across his forehead.
“I understand, sir,” he replied in a low voice. “You mean that I must go?”
Joseph waited a moment before replying. Then:
“It is past midnight,” he said slowly, “and the weather is wild. You may lie here until morning, if you are so minded. But go you must then,” he added sternly. “I need scarce say, sir, that you must have no speech with Mistress Cynthia, nor that never again must you set foot within Castle Marleigh.”
“I understand, sir; I understand. But you deal hardly with me.”
Joseph raised his eyebrows in questioning surprise.
“I was the victim of my oath, given when I knew not against whom my hand was to be lifted. Oh, sir, am I to suffer all my life for a fault that was not my own? You, Master Gregory,” he cried, turning passionately to Cynthia's father, “you are perchance more merciful? You understand my position—how I was forced into it.”