“You see, hitherto we have been shielded by a pass. Its wording was such that little inquiry was made about either of us. Now, for the first time we have no protection, and what we say to those who accost us must prove our safeguard. I shall be asked who you are. I told your brother that I would treat you as if you were my own sister, but I cannot call you my sister at Oxford.” “Why not.” “For one reason, because you go to meet friends who know that I am not your brother, and if inquiry is made we are at a disadvantage.” “True, true! I had forgotten.” “Another reason is that if we claimed such relationship no one would believe us, for your hair is as black as the raven’s wing, and mine is like the yellow corn.” For the first time that day the girl laughed outright and lifted her eyes to the locks that so well became him. The simile of Samson again flashed upon her and checked her mirth, but she put the thought resolutely away from her. Armstrong laughed also, well pleased with his progress. “I had not thought of that,” she said. “But I thought of it, and also of a way to circumvent it. If they ask who the lady is, I shall tell them she is my betrothed.” “No, no, no!” gasped the girl. “Why not? as you asked a moment since. All’s fair in love----and war. The country is at war, and we may make true the rest of the adage.” “No, no!” she repeated. He was now close by her side and endeavoured to take her hand, but she held it from him. “You say no because you will not act a lie, and I honour you for your truth. You are robed in truth, my beloved, as an angel is----” “Oh, cease, cease, I beg of you!” “Frances, this is the song that bubbles in my heart, and if my lips could worthily fulfil their prompting, I would put it to such words and such music as woman never listened to before. But, lacking eloquence, I can only say, My lady, I love you.” “And I can only say I am sorry if this be so.” “If! Why do you say if? Do you not know it to be true?” “I know it now that you tell it to me.” “Must a man speak ere he can convey to the woman he loves the fact that he loves her?” “If the woman love him not, he must speak, and still she finds his preference unaccountable.” “You do not love me?” “No.” “And cannot?” “And cannot.” “You would even rob me of all hope, the lover’s guiding star?” “If you call it robbing to take from you what should never have been possessed.” “Why should I not have possessed that hope? Is it because I am untitled, while you are the daughter of the man who was the proudest peer in England?” “Titles have naught to do with it.”