Alas! the child had gone. For the first moment he realized it, and in her place stood this pale, defiant woman, who, he bitterly told himself, had deceived him so cruelly. Perchance it was the memory of the blue-eyed child running to meet him, hand in hand with that tall, handsome youth, his lost Yvon, which steeled his proud, passionate heart against her; or perhaps it was that he read the reflection of his own indomitable will and dauntless courage in her clear eyes. To him it seemed more meet that womankind should bend, humbly and submissively, to his sovereign will, little dreaming that this slim girl from her cradle had, instead, bent him to hers, till the two imperious tempers had chanced to clash on so dire a field. "Child," said the old man hoarsely, "what is it that thou hast done? that thou—daughter of mine—hast dared to do? Nay," he cried, his voice breaking in a cry of almost piteous entreaty, "’tis impossible that thou hast done so treacherously, my Gwennola, my little Gwennola! Tell me then, child, and I will believe thy word, though all the angels in heaven, ay, and the devils in hell witness against thee—tell me that thou hast not done this thing; that the escape of this thrice accursed murderer of thy brother is not known to thee; that thou hast had naught to do with so evil a deed." "Father," cried the girl, clasping her hands, whilst her blue eyes brimmed with tears at the note of pleading anguish in his voice. "My father, listen to me. Verily, I have had naught to do with the escape of my brother’s murderer, seeing that he standeth here, yet will I not deny that I, and I alone, aided the escape of a noble and gallant knight, whose life might well have been forfeit to the foul slander of his enemies." As she spoke she would have drawn nearer to her father’s side, have taken the trembling hand which played with the girdle of his long robe, but that he motioned her back with a fierce gesture, half despair, half loathing. "A noble knight!" he cried furiously. "A noble knight indeed to blacken the honour not only of my daughter, but of his just accuser, for well I can guess the lies with which his viper’s tongue hath filled thy foolish ears. Nay, girl, speak no more, but rather go from my presence ere my hand strike down the child who hath stooped so low to save the murderer of her only brother, and a lying traitor." "Nay, monsieur," murmured de Coray smoothly, as he stepped forward, "surely you would not thus leave so grave a matter, painful as it must be to your noble heart to unveil so black a story; but it may be," he added softly, glancing towards the young girl’s bowed figure, "that the righteous wrath of a just parent hath brought remorse to a daughter’s heart; perchance her eyes are opened to what may well have been but the foolish impulse of a generous heart, and now that she seeth her act in its true light, she may be able to guide us in our search for the traitor."