But Janet grew worse, in spite of her promises of amendment. She wept and sobbed, and avowed that she was the wickedest girl under the sun, kissed her upbraiding mistress's hands with the full intent of leading a more modest life, and the next hour her vows were all forgotten, and she was listening to the soft whispers of some one or other of the soldierly men who hung about the place. So Mace's days were not peaceful now, and matters at last became so unbearable as the time glided on that she determined to speak to her father, and ask him to let her leave home until his great work that troubled her so was done, and the unwelcome visitors were gone. For weeks she went about with the words on her lips, longing to say them, but she dared not on account of the shock she knew it would give her father, while he, restless and unquiet in her presence, kept back what he had to say. It was Sir Mark who brought father and daughter to an explanation. There had been a week of something like relief, for the visitor had been to London on business connected with the order, and on his return he had startled Mace by a change in his mien in speaking to her as he had not spoken since his avowal of his love that evening by the meadow-gate. It was evening, and Mace was seated alone in the big window, working, and glancing out from time to time at the pleasant garden, thinking that it did not look so bright and cheery as of old; when Sir Mark entered, and crossing the room stood close by her, gazing gently down with his hands clasped behind. She looked up at him in a timid way, and then shrank back in her chair. Her first impulse was to run from the room, but she scouted the idea as one only fit for some weak girl; and, fighting hard to recover herself, she said the first words that came to her lips, angry with herself the next moment with what she had spoken. "Mistress Anne Beckley was here with my lady this afternoon." "Indeed!" he said, huskily, as he still gazed down. "Mistress Anne asked after your health, and bade me say that they missed you very much." "And you, what did you say?" he asked, softly. "I said you were busy with my father, watching over the trial of great pieces of ordnance and the making of powder," replied Mace, who was fast recovering her calmness. "Why did you not tell her I could not tear myself from the home where my every thought was centred; that I could not live away from her who was to be my wife? See, Mace, dearest, I brought you this from town. It is to grace your sweet, white throat. There, I thought the pearls were beautiful, but they look poor and mean, after all." Mace's hands nervously clasped Sir Mark's wrists as, with a quick movement, he brought them from behind him, and throwing a handsome string of pearls round her neck he clasped it there.