Rocelia's eyes bore plain evidence that she had been weeping. Indeed she seemed in the most melancholy of moods; and, when Sir Richard made bold to comfort her, would not suffer him even to take her hand. Then with many halts and sighs she repeated to him what Bishop Kennedy had said to her. Which, in effect, was, that it would be wrong for them to be another time alone together. That Sir Richard, being the lawful heir to the crown, must have a care of the proprieties, and seek companionship among those who were his equals. All this and much more Rocelia told him, bravely, with her soft eyes looking sad into his; her sweet lips never once faltering from the difficult task imposed upon them. "But," said Sir Richard, "did I not swear to you last night, Rocelia, that I would never be king? I am seeking now, and in you, dear, a companion through life. Whether you say me yea or nay, 'twill be all the same. I mean to leave upon this very day. Will you not trust----" "Ah! Richard," she said, sweetly, "speak not that word. All trust do I impose in you. It is not that, dear," laying her hand lightly upon his bared head; "no, 'tis not that. It is that I--I love you too well and dearly to assist in this sacrifice of your splendid future. No--no! you must not, Richard ... indeed, you must not. I may never lay lips upon yours, dear. But, mayhap, you will remember me for a while as a simple maid who dared to tell you that she loved you; and who, loving you, surrendered you to her country ... and begged you, prayed you to assert your rightful position within its boundaries." "But I cannot, Rocelia," Sir Richard protested. "Got wot an I despise not the whole vile conspiracy. An you'll not go with me, I'll go alone ... and with a heart fair breaking for love of you. Come!" he pleaded; "let me bear you away out of this turmoil-ridden land to a place of safety, and peaceful quiet, and contentment." "Ah! and how sweet it would all be, my dear," said she, allowing Sir Richard to take and keep her hand, but keeping him firmly at a distance withal. "I am so tired of it all. Naught have I known but strife and danger since I came out of girlhood. But, ah, no! it may never be. 'Tis your duty, Richard, to claim your own; and mine to prevail upon you not to abandon it. Never let it be said that my champion was a deserter of his colors." "I held faithfully to the saffron color," declared Sir Richard, "and, i' faith, I'll hold to it still." She smiled sadly, stroking his hair. "But these other colors, Richard," said she, "were marked upon your escutcheon at your birth. You may not desert them." Sir Richard had been all along looking up into Rocelia's face. He dropped his head disconsolately when she set him in the light of a deserter. He never knew what he would have answered. He knew only that she shrieked suddenly aloud and drew him swiftly close to her bosom. "For the love of God, dear heart, turn!" she cried. "'Tis Zenas with a poniard!"