“My girl, are you ready for the North?”
“Yes, yes, ready and eager. Have you seen the King?”
“I have, and his royal signature rests over my heart.”
The joy fled from the girl’s face; she turned and walked with uncertain steps to the table. A hope had arisen that the venomous De Courcy would have prejudiced the King against the young man, and that the hateful task of robbery would not be required. But now this last refuge had failed. She strove not to weep.
“If you would rather not go until to-morrow,” said Armstrong, “I can wait, but, lassie, I’m desperate anxious to leave Oxford as soon as possible. We will not travel farther than Banbury to-night.”
“I am ready,” she replied with forced firmness.