, but things are so with us women that we must risk all upon a
throw, and if we lose, good-bye to happiness.'

Then we talked on, and I cannot remember what we said, though these
words that I have written down remain in my mind, partly because of
their own weight, and in part because of all that came about in the
after years.

And at last I knew that I must go, though we were sad enough at parting.
So I took her in my arms and kissed her so closely that some blood from
my wound ran down her white attire. But as we embraced I chanced to look
up, and saw a sight that frightened me enough. For there, not five paces
from us, stood Squire Bozard, Lily's father, watching all, and his face
wore no smile.

He had been riding by a bridle-path to the watering ford, and seeing a
couple trespassing beneath the oaks, dismounted from his horse to hunt
them away. Not till he was quite near did he know whom he came to hunt,
and then he stood still in astonishment. Lily and I drew slowly apart
and looked at him. He was a short stout man, with a red face and stern
grey eyes, that seemed to be starting from his head with anger. For a
while he could not speak, but when he began at length the words came
fast enough. All that he said I forget, but the upshot of it was that he
desired to know what my business was with his daughter. I waited till
he was out of breath, then answered him that Lily and I loved each other
well, and were plighting our troth.

'Is this so, daughter?' he asked.

'It is so, my father,' she answered boldly.

Then he broke out swearing. 'You light minx,' he said, 'you shall be
whipped and kept cool on bread and water in your chamber. And for you,
my half-bred Spanish cockerel, know once and for all that this maid
is for your betters. How dare you come wooing my daughter, you empty
pill-box, who have not two silver pennies to rattle in your pouch! Go
win fortune and a name before you dare to look up to such as she.'

'That is my desire, and I will do it, sir,' I answered.

'So, you apothecary's drudge, you will win name and place, will you!
Well, long before that deed is done the maid shall be safely wedded to
one who has them and who is not unknown to you. Daughter, say now that
you have finished with him.'

'I cannot say that, father,' she replied, plucking at her robe. 'If it
is not your will that I should marry Thomas here, my duty is plain and
I may not wed him. But I am my own and no duty can make me marr