"Nay, now, my girl, thou needest not fear!" he said. "All young maidens give their hearts away in time; and so as thou givest thine worthily, neither thy father nor thy mother will chide." Kate gave one or two gasps, and then spoke with impassioned earnestness. "O father, I could not help it! I strove against it as long as I might. I feared it was a thing that must not be. But love was too strong. I could not fight for ever." "Tut--tut, child! why shouldest thou fight? Why didst thou not speak to thy mother? Girls may breathe a secret into a mother's ear that is not to be spoke elsewhere. Thou shouldest have told her, child, and have spared thyself much weary misery." Kate's head was hung very low; neither parent could see her face. "I did not dare," she answered softly; "I knew that I was wrong. I feared to speak." "Thou art a strange mixture of courage and fear, my saucy Kate. I would once have vowed that thou wouldst fear not to speak aloud every thought of thy heart. But love changes all, I ween, and makes sad cowards of the boldest of us. And so thou didst wait till he declared his love, and fretted out thy heart in silence the while?" Kate lifted her head and looked at her father, a faint perplexity in her eyes. "Nay, I ever knew he loved me. It was that I feared thy displeasure, my father. I had heard thee say--" "Nothing against Sir Robert, I warrant me," cried Sir Richard heartily; whilst Kate took one backward step and exclaimed: "Methought Sir Robert was Cecilia's lover! Why speak you to me of him, my father?" Sir Richard rose to his feet in great perplexity, looking at his wife, who was pale and agitated. "Cecilia's lover--what meanest thou, child?" he asked quickly. "I was speaking to thee of thine own lover. Sir Robert would fain wed with thee, and methought thou hadst already given him thy heart." "No--no--no!" cried Kate, shrinking yet further away. "I had no thoughts of him. O father, how couldst thou think it? He is a kind friend; but I have thought him Cecilia's knight, and I trow she thinks of him thus herself." Lady Frances now spoke to her daughter for the first time, fixing her eyes upon her, and addressing her with composure, although visibly struggling against inward agitation. "Listen to me, daughter Kate. Thou hast spoken words which, if they refer not to Sir Robert, as thy father and I believed, have need to be explained. Thou hast spoken of loving and of being beloved; what dost thou mean by that? Who is he that has dared--" "O mother, thou knowest that; thou hast heard it a hundred times. It is Culverhouse, my cousin, who--"