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.