“I don’t care what any one thinks,” said Ann Veronica. "At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. And this is not France, you understand. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years.
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