Miss Peyton was shocked, and grieved at bottom, but she was also affronted and wounded. Now anger seems to have some fine buoyant quality, which makes it rise and come uppermost in an agitated mind. She rode proudly into the courtyard of her father's house, and would not look once behind to see the last of her perverse lover. The old groom, Joe, who had taught her to ride when she was six years old, saw her coming, and hobbled out to hold her horse, while she alighted. "Mistress Kate," said he, "have you seen Master Griffith Gaunt anywheres?" The young lady colored at this question. "Why?" said she. "Why?" repeated old Joe, a little contemptuously. "Why, where have _you_ been not to know the country is out after un? First comed Jock Dennet, with his horse all in a lather, to say old Mr. Charlton was took ill, and had asked for Master Griffith. I told him to go to Dogmore Copse: 'our Kate is a hunting, to-day,' says I, and your Griffith he is sure not to be far from her gelding's tail;' a stick in his spurs and away a goes: what, han't you seen Jock neither?" "No, no," replied Miss Peyton, impatiently: "what, is there anything the matter?" "The matter, quo she! Why Jock hadn't been gone an hour when in rides the new footman all in a lather, and brings a letter for Master Griffith from the old gentleman's housekeeper: ‘you leave the letter with me, in case,' says I, and I sends him a field after t'other. Here be the letter." He took off his cap and produced the letter. Catherine started at the sight of it. "Alas!" said she, "this is a heavy day. Look, Joe; sealed with black; poor cousin Charlton! I doubt he is no more." Joe shook his head expressively, and told her the butcher had come from that part not ten minutes ago, with word that the blinds were all down at Bolton Hall. Poor human nature! a gleam of joy shot through Catherine's heart; this sad news would compel Griffith to stay at home and bury his benefactor; and that delay would give him time to reflect; and somehow or other she felt sure it would end in his not going at all. But these thoughts had no sooner passed through her than she was ashamed of them and of herself. What, welcome that poor old man's death because it would keep her cross-grained lover at home? Her cheeks burned with shame, and with a superfluous exercise of self-defense she retired from Old Joe, lest he should divine what was passing in her mind. But she was so rapt in thought that she carried the letter away with her unconsciously.