Cicely rose to fly, then, seeing no escape, took refuge in her lover's
arms. Her infuriated father seized the first part of her that came to
his hand, which chanced to be one of her long brown plaits of hair, and
tugged at it till she cried out with pain, purposing to tear her away,
at which sight and sound Christopher lost his temper also.

"Leave go of the maid, sir," he said in a low, fierce voice, "or, by
God! I'll make you."

"Leave go of the maid?" gasped Sir John. "Why, who holds her tightest,
you or I? Do you leave go of her."

"Yes, yes, Christopher," she whispered, "ere I am pulled in two."

Then he obeyed, lifting her into the chair, but her father still kept
his hold of the brown tress.

"Now, Sir Christopher," he said, "I am minded to put my sword through
you."

"And pierce your daughter's heart as well as mine. Well, do it if you
will, and when we are dead and you are childless, weep yourself and go
to the grave."

"Oh! father, father," broke in Cicely, who knew the old man's temper,
and feared the worst, "in justice and in pity, listen to me. All my
heart is Christopher's, and has been from a child. With him I shall have
happiness, without him black despair; and that is his case too, or so
he swears. Why, then, should you part us? Is he not a proper man and of
good lineage, and name unstained? Until of late did you not ever favour