ing, into the room.

The girl paled, but not from fear of her father, for the fighting blood
of the De Montforts was as strong in her as in her sire. She faced
him with as brave and resolute a face as did the young man, who turned
slowly, fixing De Montfort with level gaze.

"I heard enough of your words as I was passing through the corridor,"
continued the latter, "to readily guess what had gone before. So it
is for this that you have wormed your sneaking way into my home? And
thought you that Simon de Montfort would throw his daughter at the head
of the first passing rogue? Who be ye, but a nameless rascal? For aught
we know, some low born lackey. Get ye hence, and be only thankful that I
do not aid you with the toe of my boot where it would do the most good."

"Stop!" cried the girl. "Stop, father, hast forgot that but for Roger
de Conde ye might have seen your daughter a corpse ere now, or, worse,
herself befouled and dishonored?"

"I do not forget," replied the Earl, "and it is because I remember that
my sword remains in its scabbard. The fellow has been amply repaid by
the friendship of De Montfort, but now this act of perfidy has wiped
clean the score. An' you would go in peace, sirrah, go quickly, ere I
lose my temper."

"There has been some misunderstanding on your part, My Lord," spoke
Norman of Torn, quietly and without apparent anger or excitement. "Your
daughter has not told me that she loves me, nor did I contemplate asking
you for her hand. When next I come, first shall I see her and if she
will have me, My Lord, I shall come to you to tell you that I shall wed
her. Norm--Roger de Conde asks permission of no man to do what he would
do."

Simon de Montfort was fairly bursting with rage but he managed to
control himself to say,

"My daughter weds whom I select, and even now I have practically closed
negotiations for her betrothal to Prince Philip, nephew of King Louis
of France. And as for you, sir, I would as lief see her the wife of the
Outlaw of Torn. He, at least, has wealth and power, and a name that be
known outside his own armor. But enough of this; get you gone, nor let
me see your face again within the walls of Leicester's castle."

"You are right, My Lord, it were foolish and idle for us to be
quarreling with words," said the outlaw. "Farewell, My Lady. I shall
return as I promised, and your word shall be law." And with a profound
bow to De Montfort, Norman of Torn left the apartment, and