"Is that where I stole like a thief to catch one glimpse of you, pretty one?" he asked, paying no heed to her indignation. "And I felt like committing murder, when I saw all the gallants who wanted your smiles for themselves." "Take me back this minute!" she demanded angrily; but her heart was now thrilling with something that was not altogether rage nor fright. "That will I not," he answered quickly, and with dogged firmness. "You are no gentleman," she cried, beginning at last to feel real alarm, "if you do not take me to Mistress Morton's this minute." The young man leaned forward until his lips were close to the girl's ear; and his deep voice, now trembling as with suppressed feeling, sent each word to her with perfect distinctness. "I hope, sweet Mistress Dorothy, I am a gentleman," he said. "As such I was born, and have been accounted. But"--and his voice sank to a tremulous softness--"take you anywhere, I will not, until we have seen good Master Weeks, for whose house we are now bound. And when we leave it, it will be as man and wife." "You--dare not," she gasped. "You dare not do such a thing." He laughed softly. "Dare I not? Ah, but you mistake. I dare do anything to win you for my own. I know your sweet rebel heart better than you think, and I know that except it be done in some such manner, you may never be mine." She tried to speak, but fright and dismay sealed her lips. Suddenly he bent his face still closer and whispered: "Ah, little sweetheart, how I long to kiss you! But my rose has its thorns; and I fear their stinging my face, as they did that day in the wood, ages ago,--so long it seems since I had the happy chance to hold speech with you." Still Dorothy could not utter a word, seeming to be in a dream, while the powerful gray flew along the deserted streets that somehow looked new and strange to her eyes. And now she felt the broad breast pillowing her head, and she could feel distinctly the beating of his heart, as if his pulse and her own were one and the same. And so they rode along in silence until they reached the house of Master Weeks, where the young man pulled up his horse, and without dismounting, pounded fiercely with his sword-hilt upon the door. An upper window was soon raised, and a man's querulous voice demanded to know what was wanted. "Make haste, and come down to see," was the impatient answer. "It is Cornet Southorn who wishes to speak with you." The window was closed hastily, and a light soon flickered in the lower part of the house; and then came the noise of the door being unbarred. The young man sprang to the ground and held out his arms. "Come, sweetheart," he said, "let me lift you down, and I will fasten the horse to a ring in the step here. He has been fastened there before, but," with a soft laugh, "scarce for a like purpose."