He did leap, and landed just in front of Griffith; his rider curbed him so keenly that he went back almost on his haunches, and then stood motionless all across the road, with quivering tail. A lady in a scarlet riding-habit and purple cap, sat him as if he had been a throne instead of a horse, and, without moving her body, turned her head swift as a snake, and fixed her great grey eyes full and searching on Griffith Gaunt. He uttered a little shout of joy and amazement, his mare reared and plunged, and then was quiet. And thus Kate Peyton and he met--at right angles--and so close that it looked as if she had meant to ride him down. How he stared at her! how more than mortal fair she shone, returning to those bereaved eyes of his, as if she had really dropped from Heaven. His clasped hands, his haggard face channelled by tears, showed the keen girl she was strong where she had thought herself weak, and she comported herself accordingly, and in one moment took a much higher tone than she had intended as she came along. "I am afraid," said she, very coldly, "you will have to postpone your journey a day or two. I am grieved to tell you that poor Mr. Charlton is dead." Griffith uttered an exclamation. "He asked for you: and messengers are out after you on every side. You must go to Bolton at once." "Well a day!" said Griffith, "has he left me too? good kind old man, on any other day I had found tears for thee. But now methinks happy are the dead. Alas! sweet mistress, I hoped you came to tell me you had--I might--what signifies what I hoped--when I saw you had deigned to ride after me. Why should I go to Bolton after all?" "Because you will be an ungrateful wretch else. What, leave others to carry your kinsman and your benefactor to his grave; while you turn your back on him--and inherit his estate?--For shame, sir! for shame!" Griffith expostulated humbly. "How hardly you judge me. What are Bolton Hall and Park to me now? They were to have been yours, you know. And yours they shall be. I came between and robbed you. To be sure the old man knew my mind: he said to himself, 'Griffith or Kate, what matters it who has the land? they will live together on it. But all that is changed now; you will never share it with me; and so I do feel I have no right to the place. Kate, my own Kate, I have heard them sneer at you for being poor, and it made my heart ache. I'll stop that anyway. Go you in my place to the funeral: he that is dead will forgive me; his spirit knows now what I endure: and I'll send you a writing, all sealed and signed, shall make Bolton Hall and Park yours: and, when you are happy with some one you can love, as well as I love you, think sometimes of poor jealous Griffith, that loved you dear and grudged you nothing; but," grinding his teeth and turning white, "I _can't_ live in Cumberland, and see you in another man's arms."