e my daughter now. No one here has the right to mistreat you."
Fiona hesitantly raised her eyes to meet the man''s gaze. His shining black eyes gradually calmed her.
She licked her dry lips and finally spoke honestly about the punishment she endured in front of Mother Agatha and the subsequent series of events.
"So, that woman is called Sister Agatha, right? Agatha," the Marquis mused, savoring the name on his tongue, "Agatha. Very well, I remember it."
Fiona couldn''t understand the meaning behind his words. She stood up from her seat, walked to the fence, and looked up at the Marquis with a pitiful expression.
The students of the convent school were not allowed to have contact with men, not even their closest family members. They were only permitted to glance at them from behind the closed bars of the visiting room, like observing birds in a cage.
She was just a step away from him, yet she felt her once-embracing father was now so far away. How she longed for his embrace that carried the faint scent of tobacco and orange blossoms! The accumulated grievances of the past days surged up, causing Fiona''s large watery eyes to well up with glistening tears.
"Go to play in the yard, Fiona," he reached his hand through the gap in the fence, gently caressing the girl''s red hair, "I''ve told them to grant you a day off."
She continued to gaze at him, reluctant to leave.
"You won''t suffer anymore, my child," the Marquis''s expression turned serious, "I won''t allow anyone to make you shed tears."