“Then you must be the villain of the piece who led those worthy ironworkers astray?”
Roland laughed heartily.
“That is quite true,” he said. “Have I fallen in your estimation?”
“No; to me you appeared as a rescuer. Besides, I come of a race of ruffians, and doubtless on that account take a more lenient view of your villainy than may be the case with others.”
The young man stopped in his walk, and seized her hands again, which she allowed him to possess unresisting.
“Hilda,” he said solemnly, “your guardian thought the Archbishop of Mayence had relented, and would withdraw his opposition to our marriage. Has Mayence said anything to corroborate that estimate?”
“Nothing.”
“Has your guardian broached the subject to him?”
“Yes; but the attitude of my Lord of Mayence was quite inscrutable. Personally I think my guardian wrong in his surmise. The Archbishop of Treves murmured that Mayence never forgives. I am certain I offended him too deeply for pardon. He wishes the future Empress to be a pliable creature who will influence her husband according to his Lordship’s desires, but, as I have boasted several times, I belong to the House of Sayn.”
“Hilda, will you marry me in spite of the Archbishops?”