“Was it the King’s son, my child?”

“Nay, one not nearly so gentle as the Duke.  He is more noble at heart and hath a most noble name.  He hath a handsome countenance, more even than the Duke’s, and Janet says he hath the finest mould in all England.  Indeed, I do not know so much about such things, but I am sure his hands are near as small as mine, but with a grasp like iron.  He is wonderfully strong and hath an awful stamp when in rage, and his temper is most violent and bad, and his tongue is vicious;—­indeed, Father, I know not what to do with his oaths.  They frighten me.”

“Perhaps if thou shouldst go to him and ask in all gentleness, he would leave off blasphemy.”

“But I have no influence with him.  When anger takes him, he is terrible.”

“Then I’m afraid he does not love thee.”

“Aye, he loves me; but wants his own way, and—­to be sure, I love him quite as well when he does have his way—­which is not often.  Janet says I provoke him to swear.”  Again the priest started and his white hands trembled suspiciously.

“And how dost thou so provoke him, child?”

“He would marry me straightway and give me not time to know whether I wanted him or not, and I refused and he fell into an awful fury and swore oaths and I could not stop him,—­Father, I said I hated him, and now he so believes, and I would have him think otherwise; yet I would not tell him for the world.  When I meet him, it shall be—­with cold looks.”

“Then how is he to know thy mind?”

“I know not.”  Katherine shook her head dolefully.

“Then when he greets thee, why not smile at him and look thy feelings?”

“I know not, only ’tis my way.  I shall love to hear him plead again.  I hated to hear it once; but now—­’twill be like music.”

“What if he is cold to thee?”

“If he is cold, I will go to him and ask him to forgive me for what I have done.”

“Then thou art culpable?”

“Aye, I fear I am, for he now suffers for my fault, or rather for his love of me.”

“But if he greets thee with all love and holds out his arms to thee?”

“Then I shall be most happy, but shall act indifferently.”

“I am afraid thou dost treat a serious matter lightly; for ’tis a fickle thing; if he meets thee with open arms, thou wilt be cruel; if he greets thee coldly, thou wilt be indifferent—­for fear of thy maiden scruples.  What if he takes thee unawares?”

“How, unawares?”

“He might trick thee into a thing thou couldst not recede from.  If thou didst find thyself so placed, wouldst thou forgive him and love him just the same?”

“I must always love him, no matter what trick he plays;—­but he will play me no trick.  If he should again threaten to lock me up, as he has done heretofore, I would go to him and say,—­’Nay, I will marry thee now, Cedric!’”

“God, Kate!  Kate!” And the priest threw his arms about her, almost crushing her in his great embrace.  The cowl slipt from his head and his dark curls swept her face as he bent over her.  Instantly she knew him and straightway fell into a rage.