"If I did not know the queen--"

"'Tis presuming for thee to speak of knowing her; thou dishonourest
the noble plaid thou wearest. Begone from me, sir, instantly. Begone,
I say!"

"Nay, I shall not begone. Tell me who thou art, I know thee not!"

"Tell thee? Nay, 'twould displease my lord if he knew I held converse
with thee thus. He would no doubt send thee from the castle."

"But who is thy lord, pray?"

"Lord Cedric of Crandlemar!"

"Ah, ah,--but it does not displease him. Lord Cedric says thou shalt
talk to him the balance of his days." The maid shrunk further from him
in sheer loathing. At the moment Janet entered, and the rough Scot
turned upon her, and in a voice of command, said,--

"Who is this maid, woman?" Janet scanned him for a moment and a bit of
truth flashed upon her.

"'Tis the honoured daughter of Sir John Penwick," and she bowed to the
floor.

"Ah! ah!!" He retreated in dismay and for a moment was silent,
encumbered with emotions of surprise, admiration, wonderment and
doubt. "Then thou art my ward and thou hatest me already--"