“Uncle,” she said, pushing him toward the door, her rosy palms pressed against his broad breast, and using all her young strength, “go--go to the door and wait for me. I would speak with him. You will only quarrel. Hush! hush!” she added, as she saw the angry words trembling on Sir William’s lips; “he is a prisoner; ’tis unworthy of you.” Sir William looked at the beautiful young face so close to his, and his heart relented. “Thou art a witch, Betty,” he said; “have thy will, but make the man talk sense to thee.” She had pushed him to the door, and would have thrust him out if the warder had not fastened it from without. Having disposed of one, she ran back to the other disputant, who stood leaning on his chair with a gloomy face. “Have you also so poor an opinion of me?” he asked, looking searchingly at the fair face. “Would I be here?” she answered simply. “Ah, my lord, a woman comes not lightly to such a place!” “Forgive me!” he exclaimed, kissing her hands passionately; “Sir William’s suspicions of me struck a sore heart. My darling, while I have your confidence, no man shall dare to doubt me.” “Think, think!” she cried, pressing her hand on his arm earnestly; “how did it happen? What can we do to explain it away?” Lord Raby shook his head; he knew too well the secret nature of such charges, the slow course of the law, the difficulty of defence. “I know not,” he answered, looking fondly into her troubled eyes; “we must even let the law find its own way. The attack on me is of a nature which I can least easily defeat. I trust most in mine innocence. Let it not so distress you, happy as it makes me to feel you care. Ah, Betty, I had no thought of such a fate when I asked you to be my wife; will you keep faith? Forgive me; I ought not to ask you to remain plighted to a prisoner.” He was looking sadly at the beautiful, animated face. She raised her head proudly; her eyes shone. “Sir,” she said sweetly, “I will wed you or none!” “God bless you!” he cried, catching her in his arms and kissing her; “I have no right to ask such a pledge of you!” “You asked not,” she said archly; “I gave it. Hark! there comes the warder; doubtless our time is expired. I pray you think better of my uncle; I love him. He is a blunt man and too free-spoken, but he is true as steel.” “Dear Betty,” the prisoner whispered fondly, “if he were a monster, I would try to love him for your sake.” “Come, niece!” called Sir William, impatiently, “we must be gone; the warder is here.” “I must go,” Betty said, tearing herself away from her lover’s detaining arms; “I must go, but surely will I work for your deliverance with all my might, and so shall my uncle. Farewell--oh, farewell till we meet again!” Her eyes were shining now with tears, and there was a third summons from Sir William before she parted from the prisoner, and ran from the room, drawing her mantle over her face.