"Come, now, 'tis time," broke in the priest, after a long pause. "Sir
George will be wondering at the long delay."
"A minute more, Nicholas, a minute more," was the excited reply.
"Now, Doll," Manners appealed, "I have told you all. What say you?"
"Not yet, John, not yet," she demurely replied.
"O, say not so, Doll," he pleaded, "they will never relent."
"I cannot do it, John; indeed, I cannot. I would refuse thee naught save this, but this I must refuse."
Her lover looked at her sadly. "Then we may not see each other again," he said, "till thou art Lady Stanley."
"Nay, nay," she replied quickly, "I shall never be that. My heart would break first. I shall never be that."
"Or I may be discovered, and—and then, Doll, what?"
"O don't, don't say that," she cried. "You tear my heart. I cannot do it, John; at least—at least not now."