It had flashed across his mind that perhaps her father was once more in some way the cause of her trouble.
"Oh, very well!" she answered, throwing up her head with a little touch of forced gayety.
"Why, there are tears in your eyes, girl.

No?
Oh, but there are!" They are tears of joy, he thought.

She loves Ralph as a brother.

"_I_ laugh when I'm happy, Rotha; it seems that _you_ cry." "Do I ?" she answered, and wondered if the merciful Father above would ever, ever, ever let this bitter hour pass by.
"No, it's worry, Rotha, that's it; you're not well, that's the truth." Willy would have been satisfied to let the explanation resolve itself into this, but Rotha broke silence, saying, "What if it were _not_ good news--" The words were choking her, and she stopped.
"Not good news--what news ?" asked Willy, half muttering the girl's words in a bewildered way.
"The news that the constables have gone." "Gone! What is it?
What do you mean, Rotha ?" "What if the constables have gone," said the girl, struggling with her emotion, "only because--what if they have gone--because--because Ralph is taken." "Taken! Where?
What are you thinking of ?" "And what if Ralph is to be charged, not with treason--no, but with--with murder?
Oh, Willy!" the girl cried in her distress, throwing away all disguise, "it is true, true; it is true." Willy sat down stupefied.

With a wild and rigid look, he stared at Rotha as they sat face to face, eye to eye.