“A private word,” he said, looking up anxiously. “Well, speak on. No, this place is not private; I think its walls have ears. Follow me,” and he led the way into the old chapel, whereof, when they had all passed it, he bolted the door. “Now,” he said, “what is it?” “Sir,” answered Peter, standing before him, “having your leave at last, I asked your daughter in marriage this morning.” “At least you lose no time, friend Peter; unless you had called her from her bed and made your offer through the door you could not have done it quicker. Well, well, you ever were a man of deeds, not words, and what says my Margaret?” “An hour ago she said she was content,” answered Peter. “A cautious man also,” went on Castell with a twinkle in his eye, “who remembers that women have been known to change their minds within an hour. After such long thought, what say you now, Margaret?” “That I am angry with Peter,” she answered, stamping her small foot, “for if he does not trust me for an hour, how can he trust me for his life and mine?” “Nay, Margaret, you do not understand me,” said Peter. “I wished not to bind you, that is all, in case——” “Now you are saying it again,” she broke in vexed, and yet amused. “Do so a third time, and I will take you at your word.” “It seems best that I should remain silent. Speak you,” said Peter humbly. “Aye, for truly you are a master of silence, as I should know, if any do,” replied Margaret, bethinking her of the weary months and years of waiting. “Well, I will answer for you.—Father, Peter was right; I am content to marry him, though to do so will be to enter the Order of the Silent Brothers. Yes, I am content; not for himself, indeed, who has so many faults, but for myself, who chance to love him,” and she smiled sweetly enough. “Do not jest on such matters, Margaret.” “Why not, father? Peter is solemn enough for both of us—look at him. Let us laugh while we may, for who knows when tears may come?” “A good saying,” answered Castell with a sigh. “So you two have plighted your troth, and, my children, I am glad of it, for who knows when those tears of which Margaret spoke may come, and then you can wipe away each other’s? Take now her hand, Peter, and swear by the Rood, that symbol which you worship”—here Peter glanced at him, but he went on—“swear, both of you that come what may, together or separate, through good report or evil report, through poverty or wealth, through peace or persecutions, through temptation or through blood, through every good or ill that can befall you in this world of bittersweet, you will remain faithful to your troth until you be wed, and after you are wed, faithful to each other till death do part you.”