d then bending forward, he kissed
the sweet lips that were for evermore to be his own.

"You are mine now forever," he said, "my wife, who is to be."

She was quite silent for some minutes; then, looking up at him, she
said:

"I wish you had never sung that pretty ballad of the mill-wheel to me;
do you know what the water always says when I listen?

"'Those vows are all forgotten,
The ring asunder broken.'"

"My darling," he said, clasping her to his heart, "no words that have
any ring of doubt in them will ever apply to us, let the mill-stream say
what it will."

CHAPTER VI.

AN IMPATIENT LOVER'S PLANS.

There had been no mistake about the wooing of Lord Chandos. He had not
thought of loving and riding away; the proud, beautiful, gifted girl
whom he loved had been wooed and pursued with the ardor and respect that
he would have shown to a princess.

There came another day, when something had prevented him from seeing
her; and unable to control his impatience, he had ridden over to the
farm, this time ostensibly to see the farmer, and ask for another glass
of his famous cider; this time, under the farmer's eyes even, he stopped
and spoke to Leone.

"You will be at the mill-stream this evening?" he whispered, and her
answer was:

"Yes."

When he had drunk the cider and ridden away, Farmer Noel turned to his
niece.

"A fine young man that, Leone; but what did he say to you?"

"Nothing particular; something about the mill-stream," replied the proud
lips, that disdained a lie.

"Because," said Robert Noel, slowly, "you have a beautiful face of your
own, my lady lass, and a young man like that would be sure to admire
it."

"What matter if he did, uncle?" she asked.

"Harm would come of it," replied the farmer; "what a man admires he
often loves; and no good would come of such a love as that."

"Why not?" she asked again, with flushed face and flashing eyes. "Why
not?"

"We reckon in these parts," said the farmer, slowly, "that there is too
great a difference between the aristocracy and the working-people. To
put it in plain words, my lady lass, when a great lord or a rich man
admires a poor lass, as a rule it ends in her disgrace."

"Not always," she answered, proudly.

"No, perhaps not always; but mostly, mostly," repeated Robert Noel. "You
have a beautiful face, and, if you are wise, you will keep out of that
young gentleman's way. I should not like to offend you, Leone; you wil