alter about his neck!"

CHAPTER XXIX. THE FALL OF THE SANGHURST.

"Is that the only answer you have for me, sweet lady?"

"The only one, Sir; and you will never have another. Strive as you will,
keep me imprisoned as long as you will, I will never yield. I will never
be yours; I belong to another --"

A fierce gleam was in Sanghurst's eyes, though he retained the suave
softness of speech that he had assumed all along.

"He is dead, fair mistress."

"Living or dead, I am yet his," answered Joan unfalteringly; "and were I
as free as air -- had I never pledged my faith to him -- I should yet
have none other answer for you. Think you that your evil deeds have not
been whispered in mine ear? Think you that this imprisonment in which
you think fit to keep me is like to win my heart?"

"Nay, sweetest lady, call it not by that harsh name. Could a princess
have been better served or tended than you have been ever since you came
beneath my humble roof? It is no imprisonment; it is but the watchful
care of one who loves you, and would fain save you from the peril into
which you had recklessly plunged. Lady, had you known the dangers of
travel in these wild and lawless days, you never would have left the
shelter of your father's house with but one attendant to protect you.
Think you that those peerless charms could ever have been hidden beneath
the dress of a peasant lad? Well was it for you, lady, that your true
love was first to follow and find you, ere some rude fellow had betrayed
the secret to his fellows, and striven to turn it to their advantage.
Here you are safe; and I have sent to your father to tell him you are
found and are secure. He, too, is searching for you; but soon he will
receive my message, and will come hastening hither. Then will our
marriage be solemnized with all due rites. Your obstinate resistance
will avail nothing to hinder our purpose. But I would fain win this
lovely hand by gentle means; and it will be better for thee, Joan
Vavasour, to lay down thine arms and surrender while there is yet time."

There was a distinct accent of menace in the last words, and the
underlying expression upon that smiling face was evil and threatening in
the extreme. But Joan's eyes did not falter beneath the searching gaze
of her would-be husband. Her face was set in lines of fearless
resolution. She still wore the rough blue homespun tunic of a peasant
lad, and her chestnut locks hung in heavy natural cu