cannot find a lady like
you"--bending his knee and kissing her white fingers in gay caress.
"Indeed, if I could I should bring her home to you to Camylott--and old
Rowe might ring his bells until he lost his breath."

"Do you know," she answered, "what your father said to me the first
morning I lay in my bed with you in my arm--old Rowe was ringing the
bells as if he would go wild. I remember the joyful pealing of them as
it floated across the park to come through my open window. We were so
proud and full of happiness, and thought you so beautiful--and you are,
Gerald, yet; so you are yet," with the prettiest smile, "and your
father said of you, 'He will grow to be a noble gentleman and wed a
noble lady; and they will be as we have been--as we have been,
beloved,' and we kissed each other with blissful tears in our eyes, and
you moved in my arm, and there was a tiny, new-born smile on your
little face."

"Dear one!" he said, kissing her hand more gravely; "dear one, God
grant such sweetness may come to me--for indeed I want to love some
woman dearly," and the warm blood mounted to his cheek.

Often in their tender confidences they spoke of this fair one who was
to crown his happy life, and one day, having returned from a brief
visit in another county, as they sat together in the evening she broke
forth with a little sigh in her sweet voice.

"Ah, Gerald," she said, "I saw in Gloucestershire the loveliest strange
creature--so lovely and so strange that she gave me an ache in the
heart."

"And why, sweet one?" he asked.

"Because I think she must be the most splendid beauteous thing in all
the world--and she has been so ill used by Fate. How could the poor
child save herself from ill? Her mother died when she was born; her
father is a wicked blasphemous rioter. He has so brought her up that
she has known no woman all her life, but has been his pastime and toy.
From her babyhood she has been taught naught but evil. She is so strong
and beautiful and wild that she is the talk of all the country. But,
ah, Gerald, the look in her great eyes--her red young mouth--her
wonderfulness! My heart stood still to see her. She hurt me so."

My lord Marquess looked down upon the floor and his brow knit itself.

"'Twould hurt any tender soul to see her," he said. "I am but a
man--and I think 'twas rage I felt--that such a thing should be cast to
ravening wolves."

"You," she cried, as if half alarmed; "you have seen her?"

"