Lady Humbert had left the Cross Way House for a three days' visit
to a sick relative who had sent an urgent message to her. Mistress
Dowsabel remained in charge of the house and its small establishment,
lessened considerably by the removal of four of the men servants who
had attended their mistress on her journey.
Mistress Dowsabel would gladly have accompanied her sister, for she
was always nervous and ill at ease in her absence, but she was
withheld by two considerations. In the first place, she was
suffering from what was then termed a rheum, which we should call a
bad cold in the head, so that the idea of a wet cold journey of
some hours' duration was exceedingly unwelcome; in the second, it
was not thought seemly by either sister that the young girls, their
guests, should be left in the house without some guardian and
protector; and Mistress Dowsabel therefore decided to put her fears
on one side and remain in charge.
"And beside, what is there to fear?" Lady Humbert had said, in her
decisive and cheery fashion. "We are quiet and peaceable folks, and
have naught to dread either at home or abroad. I shall strive to be
but three nights absent; and our merry Kate will uphold thy
spirits, sister, till my return. Thou wilt be better by the
fireside than journeying in the saddle this tempestuous weather."
This fact was self evident, and Mistress Dowsabel had no desire to
leave the fireside.
"I must e'en do the best I can without thee, sister," she said. "I
doubt not my fears be foolish. I will strive that the girls be not
affected thereby."
"I trow it would be no easy matter to teach them to Kate," said
Lady Humbert with a smile. "She has all the spirit of Wyvern and
Trevlyn combined. She will be a stanch protector for thee,
Dowsabel, if thou art troubled by strange noises in the wainscot,
or by the barking of the dogs without."
"Thou thinkest me a sad coward, sister; and so perchance I am,"
said meek Mistress Dowsabel. "But if ever thou art absent from the
house, I am beset by a thousand fears that assail me not at any
other time. My heart is heavy as lead within me now."
But Lady Humbert could not delay her journey on that account. She
said something equivalent to "Fiddle dee dee!" and hastened forward
her preparations with her customary energy. Kate flitted about and
chattered merrily to her, having won her way by that time to a very
soft spot in the heart of her ancient kinswoman.
"I am glad to leave thee with thy aunt Dowsabel, child," said Lady
Humbert before she left. "Ellen will read to her and see to her
possets and her little fire-side comforts; but thou wilt assist her
to overlook the household and servants, and cheer up her spirits
and her courage if either should flag. She is strangely timid when
I am not by. Thou must do what thou canst to keep away her fears."
"Fears!" echoed Kate, laughing; "why, wherefore should we fear?"
"There is small cause, but Dowsabel is by nature timorous, and she
will lean on thee, child though thou art, when I am gone. There be
certain charges I would lay upon thee. The men will be gone, all
but old Thomas within doors and Joshua without; wherefore I will
ask thee to go round the house thyself at dusk each eve, and see
that all bolts and bars be securely drawn. That is Andrew's work,
but he will be with me. Dyson and thou hadst better go together--or
thou and Cherry. Thou wilt not be afraid of such a task?"
"Afraid? marry no! Cherry and I will do it gladly. She is a
merry-hearted lassie, and I like her well. Is there aught else, my
lady aunt?"
Lady Humbert, standing beside the fire and drawing on her riding
gloves, looked into Kate's bright face with a thoughtful smile.
"If I could trust thy discretion as I trust thy courage and sense,
my giddy-pated maiden, there is one more charge I would lay upon
thee."
The light of laughter in Kate's eyes changed suddenly to something
deeper and graver. She came one step nearer and laid her hand on
Lady Humbert's arm.
"Try me," she said simply. "Methinks I am not so giddy as they deem
me. I have thought, I have suffered, I have been forced to possess
my soul in patience. Try and see if I may not be trusted in this
thing."
Lady Humbert gazed a moment into the clear eyes, and then said:
"I will try thee, child. It is no such heavy charge I would lay
upon thee, yet it is one that thy aunt Dowsabel would fear to
undertake. She would fain close the doors of the Cross Way House
against all strangers and wayfarers who come to them in the absence
of the mistress; but that is not my wish. Dost thou know, child,
the name the Cross Way House has ever held with those who fare
through the forest tracks?"
"I have heard it spoken of as a place where none in need is ever
turned away," answered Kate.
"Ay, and so it was in those good old days when Wyverns held open
house here, and were beloved from far and near. Alas! those good
old days are passed away; for our fortunes are fallen, and we have
no longer the power to entertain in such bounteous fashion. And yet
I have striven, as thou hast doubtless seen, that the poor, the
aged, the sick, and the needy are never turned from these doors
without bite or sup to cheer their hearts and send them rejoicing
on their way. Strange persons come to the house from time to time;
but all are admitted to such good cheer as is ours to offer, and
never has my hospitality been abused. Fugitives from the robbers of
the road have been admitted here; yet never has this lone house
been attacked. Wounded robbers have sought shelter here, bleeding
nigh to death, and their wounds have been dressed by these hands,
and their lives saved through our ministrations. To the cry of
poverty or distress the doors have ever opened, be the distressed
one worthy or no. Never have we had cause to regret what we have
done for evil men or good. Never has our hospitality been repaid by
treachery or deceit."
"And now?" asked Kate as Lady Humbert paused.
"Now my timid sister would have the doors closed for the days that
I am absent and the men with me. She says she fears for the
treasure. She says there is more peril now than of old. She may be
right; but I see not why the danger be greater, since none know the
secret save those who are pledged to keep it, and it goes against
me that the traditions of the house should be broken. Can I trust
thee, Kate, to take my place in this? Wilt thou strive to still thy
aunt's fears and keep watch over all who come and go, that our
doors may still open to the poor, whilst no needless terrors be
inflicted on the timid women who will be forced to keep guard
alone?"
"I will gladly strive to do all I may," answered Kate, who had been
Lady Humbert's companion now long enough to know much of her
methods.
"It may well be that none will come," said Lady Humbert cheerfully,
with a smile and a nod of approval. "These be ill days for
travellers, and in the winter season few pass this way. But such as
do seek shelter from the storm or from hunger or peril must not be
turned away disappointed. Look to it, Kate. I trust that matter to
thee. I shall ask thee for the account of thy stewardship on my
return."
And then the mistress of the house gathered her train together and
set forth, riding her steady old horse as fearlessly as though she
had been fifty years younger, and nodding a brisk farewell all
round as she turned out of the gate upon the highway so close at
hand.
Mistress Dowsabel wept feebly for a short while, and seemed
disposed to start and tremble at every sound. But Petronella got a
book and settled herself to read to her, whilst she forgot her
fears in the intricacies of her well-beloved tapestry work. As for
Kate, she called to Cherry, and began to set about those household
duties which the mistress of the house had given into her charge,
so that the timid invalid might be spared all trouble and anxiety.
Cherry was a very happy girl in those days. Her position in that
household was slightly anomalous, and at first it had been a little
difficult to find the right niche for her. As the niece of Dyson,
who had summoned her thither to act in the capacity of lady's maid,
her place would by rights have been the servants' hall and kitchen;
but then, as Kate had seen at once, it would scarce be right for
Cuthbert Trevlyn's future wife to take so lowly a station as that
of a serving wench.
Cuthbert was no longer the impecunious son of Nicholas Trevlyn,
dependent upon his own wit and energy for the place he might hold
in the world. He was the finder of that vast hoard of lost
treasure, which had proved so far more valuable than the most
sanguine hopes had pictured. By every rule of right and justice a
large share of this treasure should come to him. He would be a man
of wealth and station; and it had been openly announced by these
sisters of the house of Wyvern that they intended to make him their
heir. They had taken a great liking to him. They had no near
kindred of their own. He was the grandson of one of the Wyverns,
and a degree nearer them than the other Trevlyns, so they were
quite resolved upon this step.
So when Kate, with the courage and frankness inherent in her
nature, had told the old ladies of Cuthbert's betrothal, Petronella
adding all she knew of the constancy of her brother's attachment to
Martin Holt's daughter, Lady Humbert recognized in a moment that it
would not do to treat the girl as a mere dependent. She must be
admitted to some other position, and trained for that station in
life to which her marriage would entitle her.
Lady Humbert had all the class exclusiveness of her race; but she
was a large-hearted woman to boot, and had an uncommon share of
common sense. She would have been glad had Cuthbert's choice fallen
elsewhere; but as it had not done so, and as Cherry was as faithful
to him as he to her, there was only one thing to be done, and that
was to make the best of the matter, and strive to see the best side
only. The girl must be admitted to the position of companion to
Petronella and Kate. She must be taught the refinements of life in
another station, and gradually fitted for the life that lay before
her.
It had been a great relief to find the girl so pretty, so gentle in
her ways, so eager to please, so naturally dainty and particular.
Cherry had quick apprehension and ready adaptability of nature. She
took to the new ways like a duck to the water. She had a sweet
voice and a refined fashion of speaking. In a very short while she
looked as much at home in the presence of the ladies as Petronella
herself. Kate found indeed that the city-bred maiden was more
advanced in many things than the recluse of the Gate House. She set
herself busily to the task of drilling both her companions in the
arts of dancing, deportment, the use of the globes, and of playing
upon the harpsichord; and found in both apt and eager pupils. Both
girls had much natural grace and a great desire to improve
themselves. Petronella was by nature dreamy and studious, whilst
Cherry was all life, brightness, and vivacity. She and Kate
gradually drew together, and would spend hours rambling in the
extensive gardens and shrubberies behind the house, or riding out,
with Andrew in attendance, through some of the forest tracks.
Petronella, on the other hand, preferred remaining at home, reading
to the elderly ladies, and being by them instructed in many matters
of political and religious import. Her mind was rapidly enlarging.
She was unconsciously fitting herself daily more and more to be
Philip's wife; whilst their very differences seemed to draw the
three girls more closely together, and they felt by this time like
sisters as well as companions.
Lady Humbert's absence was a matter of some excitement to Kate and
Cherry, upon whom many small duties now devolved.
The house certainly felt lonely with so many of its ordinary
inhabitants absent. The great empty rooms were kept strictly
locked. The gates in front of the house were likewise locked by day
as well as night, and only the small door at the back was to be
opened until the return of the mistress. So the timid Dowsabel had
decreed; and she had directed that the keys of the outer doors
should be brought to her; and by day they were laid in her sight
upon the chimney ledge, whilst at night they were placed beneath
her pillow. Kate made a wry face, but did not otherwise protest.
Time was passing quietly by, and there seemed little probability
that their tranquillity would be disturbed.
"I would fain wish for some small adventure in Lady Humbert's
absence, just to show that she has not put her faith in us in
vain!" said Kate, as the girls sought their couch on the second
night of the mistress's absence. "There has not been so much as a
beggar to the gate. These storms of wind and rain seem to keep all
within doors."
"I fear me I am but a coward," answered Petronella, "for I am glad
when night follows day and there be naught to alarm us. Perchance
sitting with our aunt Dowsabel so much, I learn somewhat of her
fears from her."
"A truce to fear!" cried Kate, as she unbound her hair and tossed
the heavy mane out of her eyes and over her shoulders. "Would that
we lived in days when women might do and dare somewhat for those
they loved, or for their country! I should love to have to hold
this house against a rabble of hooting foes!"
"So should not I," answered Petronella. "I love not strife and
warfare; I am for quietude and peace," and she smiled into Kate's
flushed face, whilst Cherry looked from one to the other, scarce
knowing with which she sided.
She had something of Kate's daring, and dearly admired it in her;
but she shared in part Petronella's shrinking from strife and
danger, a shrinking that to Kate was inexplicable.
The night came and went in quietness and peace. The day passed
without any event. Kate paced impatiently up and down the big hall
as the sun went down in red and gold, sullen and lowering as it
neared the horizon, but shining to the last. She had not been
beyond the limits of the garden since Lady Humbert had gone. Now it
seemed as if a restless fit had come upon her, and grasping Cherry
by the arm, she cried:
"Let us go into the long gallery overhead and dance--dance--dance!
My feet are fairly aching for some exercise. Come thou and dance
with me."
Kate's word was almost always law to Cherry, though she thought it
a dreary place to select just at this hour of approaching darkness.
Still, there would be a little light glimmering in through that
long row of windows, and with Kate who would be afraid?
The key was in the door. The polished boards of the long ballroom
lay gleaming with ghostly shimmer in the fading light. The pictures
on the walls seemed to stare at the two intruders with cold
displeasure. Cherry shivered slightly as the chill struck her. It
seemed to her as if these stately knights and dames themselves must
surely come down from their frames at such an hour as this; and
silently disport themselves in this long gallery. She was glad to
feel Kate's arm about her as she commenced circling round and round
in her light and airy fashion. As the warm blood began tingling in
their veins the pace grew faster and faster, and Cherry's
chilliness and fear alike left her. Up and down, round and round,
flew the light girlish feet. The exercise was delightful to both
after the inaction of two long days. Up and down, round and round,
as though they would never tire; and as they danced the twilight
changed to night, and only glimmering moonbeams fell within the row
of windows, lighted the long gallery, and fell upon the flickering
figures of the two girls.
But their eyes had grown used to the darkness, and they heeded it
not. Cherry's thoughts had flown off to Cuthbert, Kate's to
Culverhouse. The rapid exercise stimulated thought, and both hearts
beat high with the glowing hope of youth. When at last they paused,
laughing and breathless, at the upper end of the long room, their
eyes were shining brightly, there was a vivid colour in their
checks. They only wished to gather breath and then on again.
"It is hot--it is stifling!" cried Kate, as she threw back her
tumbled hair. "I must have air--air! I will open this window; we
can look out such a way from it. O Cherry, think--this big window
looks straight out towards London! Ah, why are not our eyes strong
enough to see our loved ones there!"
Cherry laughed and blushed in the darkness, and Kate's strong hand
undid the bolt and latch and flung the great casement wide. The
cool night air rushed in, and both girls, heated with exercise,
were glad to rest their elbows on the stone mullion and lean out
into the breezy night.
"It is delicious!" cried Kate; "it is the elixir of life!"
Then the girls were silent for a few moments, till they both
started at the same sound.
"That was a gun!" cried Kate suddenly, leaning further out of the
window. "Listen, Cherry! There again--another shot! That can only
mean one thing!"
"What thing?" asked Cherry, growing suddenly pale with excitement
and fear.
"Highwaymen attacking travellers!" answered her companion, standing
straight up, but with her head still inclined in an attitude of
keen attention. "Listen, Cherry, listen! Is it the beating of my
heart, or is that sound the galloping of horses' hoofs upon the
road? Hark! Yes, they grow louder they come this way! Down, Cherry!
We must rush to the gates and have them open and take them in!
"Cherry, listen! Be calm, be quiet! Run thou to old Thomas and to
Dyson and the rest; tell them what we have heard. I must for the
keys. I must have them whether our aunt wills it or no. There be no
place of refuge save this for miles around. Here must they find
shelter from their foes. It is Lady Humbert's will; I must fulfil
it."
All the while Kate spoke she was running swiftly along the boarded
floor, with Cherry keeping pace at her side; and as she dashed down
the staircase she paused for a moment and took from the place where
they hung two matchlocks, which she knew were always kept loaded,
and these she laid quietly down in the hall. Then she opened the
parlour door, and walked boldly forward to the spot where the keys
lay. Possessing herself of these, she said quietly:
"Be not affrighted, Aunt Dowsabel, but there be folks in trouble on
the road. They are pursued by robbers, I fear. I am about to unlock
the gates, that we may draw them into safe shelter here."
Petronella sprang to her feet, and Mistress Dowsabel uttered a
sharp scream of terror.
"Kate, I forbid it--I forbid it!" she gasped. "The gates shall not
be unlocked! Dost hear, child? They shall not be unlocked! We shall
have the whole horde upon us, we poor unprotected women! Kate, come
back, come back! The keys are mine; I am mistress here! It shall
not be done! Girl, I will not be thus defied!"
But Kate was already half through the hall, where the terrified
servants were mustering. She had seized up the matchlocks, and now
thrust one of them into old Thomas's shaking hands.
"Take it!" she said, "and when I am gone lock and bolt the door
behind me an your lady desires it. But I will not disobey my Lady
Humbert, and she would have done as I do now. I go to the gate and
I hold it open. I draw within its shelter the pursued, and I strive
to close it against the pursuers. All within these walls will be
safe.
"Thy place is here, Thomas, beside thy mistress. She will die with
terror if thou leave her. I am strong enough to unbar the gates
alone, and I have this weapon, which I know how to use.
"Hark! there be cries along the road. The pursuit draws nigh."
Kate flung open the great door and sprang out into the dusky
darkness beyond, and Petronella and Cherry, casting one glance at
each other, caught up a gleaming weapon from the wall, where many
hung, and dashed out after her.
"Shut and lock the door behind us, an you fear for yourselves!"
cried Kate, as she led the way down the short flight of steps.
"Girls!" she cried, turning her flushed and resolute face upon her
companions, "we three will stand together for weal or woe this
night. It may be that we shall save life. We can but lose our own,
come what may. Are you ready to face the peril? for these gates
must be unbarred."
"We are ready," answered both, as they stood beside her holding her
weapon, whilst her strong young hands turned the ponderous key in
the lock and slipped back the heavy bolts.
All this while the thundering thud of galloping horse hoofs was
approaching nearer and nearer, mingling with the fierce vindictive
shouts of the pursuers, that sent thrills of terror through the
hearts of two of the girls, but made Kate set her teeth together,
and braced her nerves and muscles till they felt as if turned to
steel.
"Girls," she said, "listen! I open this gate--so, and stand here
with my weapon. As the pursued make for this house, as they most
surely will, I shout to them as they near it to fling themselves
from their horses and rush in. If they understand, they will do so;
but there may be delay. If the pursuers are close at hand, I shall
fire at the foremost, and methinks I shall not miss. My hands will
be thus occupied. It must be your task to swing to and shut the
gate behind the pursued. If any assailant strive to follow, strike
him down without mercy. Methinks a woman's arm can deal a hard
blow! I trow mine could. But, above all, be it your task to guard
the gate. Is it understood?"
"It is!" answered both girls in a breath.
They looked back at the house, so close behind them that it was
hard to feel afraid. The door stood ajar, and faces peered out into
the darkness; but Mistress Dowsabel's shrill voice was still heard
within, and she was plainly hindering any of the servants from
going forth to the assistance of the brave girls without, terrified
almost out of her wits at what might occur.
The high wall hid the road from the three who stood beside the
gate, but the gasping breath of the horses could now be heard,
whilst the fierce cries of pursuit had changed to an ominous
silence, as though not even a breath was to be wasted--every nerve
being strained to the effort of the chase.
It was terrible to be able to see nothing. Petronella suddenly made
a rush towards the wall, and finding foothold here and there in the
chinks of the brick work, contrived to swing upwards her light
frame till she could look over the top.
"There be three pursued," she cried to those below; "and methinks
the hindermost is wounded, he sways so terribly in the saddle. The
pursuers are close behind; it seems well nigh as if they must come
up with them.
"Oh, well done, good horses; oh, well done!
"Kate, they be close at hand; they are making for the gate as a
dove to its nest!"
Then Kate suddenly threw both doors wide and stood out in the dim
moonlight.
"Fling yourselves from your horses, gentlemen, and come in!" she
cried, in clear, penetrating tones. "There is shelter behind these
walls. And the first man who dares to follow I shoot dead!"
Then as the foremost horseman obeyed her, flinging himself from the
saddle, and staggering rather than walking within the gates, at
either one of which stood one of the two girlish guardians, ready
at a moment's notice to fling them together again, a quick sharp
cry broke from Kate's lips, together with the one word:
"Father!"
The second horseman was now within the gates; the third was close
behind. But there was a yell as of triumph, and suddenly Kate's
eyes flashed fire. There was the sharp report of a gun. The girl
flung the smoking weapon in the face of a second assailant, and
dragged within the gate the prostrate form of the third traveller.
Cherry and Petronella banged to the iron portals in the very faces
of the foremost assailants, who had recoiled for a moment before
Kate's blows, and drew the heavy bolts; whilst the shower of oaths
and curses which arose from the rest of the band, who rode up at
that moment, showed how fully they recognized their defeat.
Even the horses had escaped them; for the sagacious animals had
recognized their locality, and had made for the yard door at the
back, where Joshua had admitted them without delay, glad enough to
do anything to assist the hardly-beset travellers in their hour of
need.
The travellers had sunk down just within the gates, so breathless
and exhausted that for the first few seconds they did not even know
how and by whom their rescue had been effected. But the banging to
of the gates, and the sullen murmurs of the highwaymen as they had
drawn off, recognizing their defeat, showed those within that for
the moment the peril was past. The doors were then thrown open;
lights streamed forth into the darkness. Sir Richard Trevlyn rose
to his feet, passing his hand across his brow, to find his son
passionately embracing the dark-eyed Petronella, who clung to him,
fairly sobbing in her excitement and wonder; whilst Kate knelt
beside the prostrate figure of Culverhouse, who lay with closed
eyes almost like one dead.
"Kate, my girl, is it to thee we owe our deliverance?"
"Father, is he dead--is he dead?"
The cry was so full of anguish that it went to the father's heart;
and disregarding the shrill welcome and asseverations of Mistress
Dowsabel, who had just recognized, to her immense relief, that they
had admitted their own kinsmen to their doors, he bent over the
Viscount, and lifted him in his arms.
"Dead! not a bit of it. Dead men do not ride as he did. But he was
wounded in the arm, and has been losing blood fast, and doubtless
fainted the moment the strain was over. See, we will lay him here
on this settle beside the fire. Give him some wine, and bind up
that arm, my girl. Thou wilt choose to wait upon him thyself, I
trow. He will soon be able to thank thee for this timely rescue. I
must hear more of thy tale when I have spoken with thine aunt."
All was confusion now in the house, but confusion of a pleasant and
bustling kind. Joshua brought news that the highwaymen had
retreated in disappointment and dudgeon, but, true to their
principles, without any attempt at taking vengeance upon the Cross
Way House. Sir Richard was striving to soothe the agitation of the
timid Dowsabel, and hearing of the absence of the mistress of the
house; whilst servants hurried to and fro, setting the table for
supper, and vying with each other to provide comforts for the weary
travellers, who had been through so much peril and hard riding.
Petronella sat beside Philip in a deep embrasure, and had eyes and
ears for him alone. Kate and Cherry, under the direction of Dyson,
bound up Lord Culverhouse's arm, and soon had the satisfaction of
seeing the colour come back into his face, and his closed eyes
slowly open.
When they did this they dwelt for some moments upon Kate's face in
a dreamy fashion, as though their owner thought himself still in
some sort of a dream; but when she raised his head and put a cup to
his lips, he seemed to awake with a start, and after thirstily
draining the contents of the vessel, he caught her hand,
exclaiming:
"Kate--my Kate!--is it truly thou?"
She gave a little cry of joy at hearing him speak in tones so like
his own. He pressed the hand he held, whilst she knelt beside him
and whispered softly in his ear:
"It is I, indeed, thy little wife. O Culverhouse--and I thought
that thou hadst but come hither to die!"
There was a catch in her voice that told how great had been the
strain of the past minutes--greater than he could know just then.
She found it hard to keep back the tears as she knelt beside him,
listening whilst he whispered to her of all that had been said
about that sudden marriage of theirs, and how that none would dare
to call him free of his plighted word.
"And so thou art in very truth my betrothed wife, sweet Kate," he
said, "and none may part us now. It was as I said when I bid thee
come and plight thy troth. It was a pledge too solemn to be broken.
My father and mother say so, and so does thy father. We may not be
able to wed just yet; but if what I hear be true, sure our day of
waiting need not be so very long."
The colour had come back into her face now; her eyes were sparkling
in their old fashion. She looked indeed the same "saucy Kate" that
he had known and loved ever since his early boyhood.
There were steps behind them, and Sir Richard emerged from the room
where he had been holding counsel with Mistress Dowsabel. He looked
at the two beside the fireplace, and at that other pair in the
window, both too much absorbed in each other to heed him; and with
a smile upon his face he strode forward and laid his hand upon
Kate's shoulder.
"And so, my headstrong daughter, it is to that strong will of
thine, and the reckless courage I have sometimes chidden, that we
owe our lives and our safety today?" he said.
Culverhouse looked up eagerly.
"What sayest thou, sir?" he asked, whilst Kate's face crimsoned
over from brow to chin.
"Say, my lad? why, I say that but for this hardy wench of mine,
who, instead of retreating behind the strong walls of the house,
flung open with her own hands the iron gates to let us in, we
should by this time have been in sorry plight enow, had we not all
been dead men. It was she who opened those gates when all else
feared to do so--she who (aided by her two companions, whom she
inspired by her own courage) saved us from our foes. It was she who
shot down the foremost enemies, who would else have had thy life,
Culverhouse, and with her own hands dragged thee, all unconscious
as thou wert, within these gates.
"Wherefore, as to thee, boy, I owe my life (for that thou didst
receive in thine arm the charge that else would have dashed out my
brains), and that to her we both owe this timely rescue, methinks
that no wife nor daughter could do more, and that we must let
bygones be bygones and wed you so soon as may be. I will give my
fatherly blessing to you twain, for you are worthy of each other,
and have proved it this night. And so soon as you can win the
sanction of your good parents to your nuptials, Culverhouse, I will
give my saucy Kate to you without a doubt or a fear."