“And if I cannot consent?”
“Then ’t will be the worse for you.”
“God’s truth, but you spur an inclination already highly mettled. Still would I treat you with all courtesy. You are a nameless woman, and many of the highest dames in England are proud to call me their friend.”
“That I believe to be as untrue as your saying I am a nameless woman.”
“Nevertheless, one is as true as the other. Your father never acknowledged you.”
“He has been burdened with more important affairs, but he will do so when he is free.”
During this dialogue the participants had been constantly changing their positions, De Courcy advancing and Frances retreating, keeping the table between them. The girl’s design was plain enough; she desired to hold him in conversation, gradually shifting her position, until she got between him and the door, when a sudden dash might give her freedom. But he easily fathomed this design and laughed as he checkmated it. At her last words, however, he drew himself upright, a look of genuine amazement overspreading his face.
“When he is free!” he echoed. “Powers of Heaven! Then you have not come to reproach the King, but to plead with him!”
“Why should I reproach him?”
“It would surely be useless enough, but feminine. Why? Because Gregory Brandon, with one good stroke, severed the King’s word and Strafford’s neck on Tower Hill this morning.”