remember the last time we sat so?" asked the girl, as she
came and knelt beside him, placing an arm upon his shoulder; "'twas
the night before I left for England; and, oh! it was a most sorry
time." Then fingering the ends of her silver girdle and glancing at
the old woman, who was still asleep, she began in a hesitating voice:

"Mayhap the speech of my good grandam might mislead thee into thinking
me but a sorry flirt. Therefore, I would make explanation, which is
most easy, and set thee right."

"I thought naught of it, daughter, for I am much too well acquainted
with her mischief-working words, that are ever ready to brew a
trouble. If thou hast aught to say, however, and would feel better for
the telling, pray go on, and know an ever-loving heart awaits thy
speech," replied Fawkes, stroking her hair.

"Then thou must know," she began abruptly, "that Sir Thomas Winter is
a frequent caller at this house, and, my father, how can I tell thee
for the very shame of it? He hath never spoken to that effect, but
there are many thoughts ne'er proclaimed by tongue which are most
loudly uttered by eye and hand, often, too, more truly eloquent are
they than those framed in simple words; and by this very language yet
outspoken, I know soon will come the day when there will be asked a
heart----" she broke off suddenly and buried her face in her
hands--"that is not now mine to give."

"There, there, my pretty one, stop thy crying, for thine eyes were
made for smiles and not for grief. It is naught so bad; Sir Winter is
a fine gentleman and much we owe him. But thou art my daughter, and I,
a poor, rough soldier; it would be an ill-assorted match; in truth, I
believe that the lark should not pair with the golden finch, who would
soon tire of her sweet song, because she lacked the yellow feathers of
her mate. What, dost thou but cry the harder for my words? I have not,
I know, the tender touch of a mother to dry thy tears, but a more
willing hand to comfort cannot be found." Then he added tenderly: "If
thou hast aught more to tell, open thy heart to me and I will play the
woman for a while."

"Think not, then, from my tears," she suddenly exclaimed, lifting her
head and confronting her father with that spirit which is often hid in
a seemingly gentle nature, "that I am ashamed of him on whom my love
doth fall; or, rather, of him to whom my love doth mount, for he is as
far above me in worth, as I beneath him in station. But what