“Ah, Gabriel, did I not warn you against prejudiced affections and ambitious love. Slander and shame have turned father into a Shylock. He will believe nothing, accept nothing.”
“I must face him,” he said to her, moving on amid the laurels.
“Be wise, weigh well your words.”
Judith followed at his heels. There was great sadness upon her face. Before the path upon the Saltire lawns, she touched Gabriel’s arm and beckoned him back within the shadows of the thicket.
“Gabriel,” she said.
“Sister.”
“Tell me one thing before you go: do you love this Joan Gildersedge?”
He started to hear the hallowed name upon her lips, for he had never heard it save in his own heart.
“I love her as Dante loved Beatrice.”
“And she is worthy?”