"I have learned to since--since--I can't tell when--I knew I loved him--yesterday--the day before. I know it now. I tremble when I think of how well I love him. I have been so uncertain, Father. I thought I loved this one, and then another, and for a time I was not sure I knew what love was. Then it came to me on a sudden that I would rather die than live all my life without the one I so desired. And yesterday I knew of a certainty that I loved and that I was loved." "Yesterday?"--and the priest winced, and there was pain in the tone of his voice as he uttered the word. "Aye, yesterday--I was thinking. I thought of his kindness to me--of the deference he has shown me, of his great patience toward me; and I saw how well he loved me." "Was it the King's son, my child?" "Nay, one not nearly so gentle as the Duke. He is more noble at heart and hath a most noble name. He hath a handsome countenance, more even than the Duke's, and Janet says he hath the finest mould in all England. Indeed, I do not know so much about such things, but I am sure his hands are near as small as mine, but with a grasp like iron. He is wonderfully strong and hath an awful stamp when in rage, and his temper is most violent and bad, and his tongue is vicious;--indeed, Father, I know not what to do with his oaths. They frighten me." "Perhaps if thou shouldst go to him and ask in all gentleness, he would leave off blasphemy." "But I have no influence with him. When anger takes him, he is terrible." "Then I'm afraid he does not love thee." "Aye, he loves me; but wants his own way, and--to be sure, I love him quite as well when he does have his way--which is not often. Janet says I provoke him to swear." Again the priest started and his white hands trembled suspiciously. "And how dost thou so provoke him, child?" "He would marry me straightway and give me not time to know whether I wanted him or not, and I refused and he fell into an awful fury and swore oaths and I could not stop him,--Father, I said I hated him, and now he so believes, and I would have him think otherwise; yet I would not tell him for the world. When I meet him, it shall be--with cold looks." "Then how is he to know thy mind?" "I know not." Katherine shook her head dolefully. "Then when he greets thee, why not smile at him and look thy feelings?" "I know not, only 'tis my way. I shall love to hear him plead again. I hated to hear it once; but now--'twill be like music." "What if he is cold to thee?" "If he is cold, I will go to him and ask him to forgive me for what I have done." "Then thou art culpable?" "Aye, I fear I am, for he now suffers for my fault, or rather for his love of me." "But if he greets thee with all love and holds out his arms to thee?" "Then I shall be most happy, but shall act indifferently."