"But surely, Trevanion, you will not--that is, consider, man. It would not be simply wedding a penniless bride; she is worse than penniless. You see this stain upon her birth closes the door of every house in the country to her." "Not all," I cried. "You see," he went on, "you will now hold your head high when it is noised abroad, as it soon will be, that you have received favour from the King, that Trevanion is yours free from all encumbrance, you will be able to choose your bride from the fairest and the richest. Besides, you must think of further advancements at the King's hands. That would become impossible if you wedded this maid." "My lord," I cried, "I love her! I never loved a woman before. I thought I did ten years ago, and when she proved false I vowed I could never trust a woman again. But now----" "But now, what?" "You can guess, my lord." "Then you are bent on marrying her?" "I am going to beg her, to beseech her if needs be," I replied. "You say she is still in this house, my lord. Should I be imposing too much on your kindness if I ask that I may see her. I have not beheld her for many days, and my heart hungers for her sorely." "How old are you, Trevanion?" "Past thirty-two," I replied. "You are not a boy," he said like one musing, "and you ought to know your mind." Then he looked steadily in my face as though he would read my inmost thoughts. "He is right," he cried, looking fiercely out of the window and across the broad rich valley where the clear water of the river coiled. He seemed communing with himself and thinking of some event in his own past life. "He is right," he repeated still fiercely; "by God, I would do it myself if I were in his place!" He left the room abruptly without looking at me, and I was left alone. Minutes passed, I know not how many, and I stood waiting for my love. Whatever might be the truth concerning her father's marriage, it was naught to me. Now that I had a home to offer her, everything was plain, and I could have shouted aloud in my joy. Had she been a beggar maid it would not have mattered; I loved her with all the strength of my life, and my love had made me careless concerning the thoughts of the world. For love is of God, and knows nothing of the laws of man. Besides, I had looked into the depths of her heart; I had seen her sorrow when she thought I was in danger. I remembered the light which shone from her eyes when she came to me that night at Restormel. I remembered the tone of her voice when she had sobbed out my name. I heard a rustle of a woman's dress outside the door, and eagerly, just like a thoughtless boy, I ran and opened it; and then I saw my Nancy, pale and wan, but still my Nancy,--and then I wanted naught more. CHAPTER XXX. IN WHICH UNCLE ANTHONY PLAYS HIS HARP.