e, I'll none of him."

"He may atone," said the friar, "and the king may mollify. The earl is a
worthy peer, and the king is a courteous king."

"He cannot atone," said Sir Ralph. "He has killed the king's men; and if
the baron should aid and abet, he will lose his castle and land."

"Will I?" said the baron; "not while I have a drop of blood in my veins.
He that comes to take them shall first serve me as the friar serves my
flasks of canary: he shall drain me dry as hay. Am I not disparaged? Am
I not outraged? Is not my daughter vilified, and made a mockery? A girl
half-married? There was my butler brought home with a broken head.
My butler, friar: there is that may move your sympathy. Friar, the
earl-no-earl shall come no more to my daughter."

"Very good," said the friar.

"It is not very good," said the baron, "for I cannot get her to say so."

"I fear," said Sir Ralph, "the young lady must be much distressed and
discomposed."

"Not a whit, sir," said the baron. "She is, as usual, in a most
provoking imperturbability, and contradicts me so smilingly that it
would enrage you to see her."

"I had hoped," said Sir Ralph, "that I might have seen her, to make my
excuse in person for the hard necessity of my duty."

He had scarcely spoken, when the door opened, and the lady made her
appearance.

CHAPTER IV

Are you mad, or what are you, that you squeak out your
catches without mitigation or remorse of voice?
--Twelfth Night.

Matilda, not dreaming of visitors, tripped into the apartment in a dress
of forest green, with a small quiver by her side, and a bow and arrow
in her hand. Her hair, black and glossy as the raven's wing, curled
like wandering clusters of dark ripe grapes under the edge of her round
bonnet; and a plume of black feathers fell back negligently above it,
with an almost horizontal inclination, that seemed the habitual effect
of rapid motion against the wind. Her black eyes sparkled like sunbeams
on a river: a clear, deep, liquid radiance, the reflection of ethereal
fire,--tempered, not subdued, in the medium of its living and gentle
mirror. Her lips were half opened to speak as she entered the apartment;
and with a smile of recognition to the friar, and a courtesy to the
stranger knight, she approached the baron and said, "You are late at
your breakfast, father."

"I am not at breakfast," said the baron. "I have been at supper: my last
night's supper; for I had no