Then Catherine trembled, and could not speak awhile: but at last she faltered out, "You will make me _hate_ you." "God forbid!" said simple Griffith. "Well then don't thwart me, and provoke me so, but just turn your horse's head and go quietly home to Bolton Hall, and do your duty to the dead and the living. You can't go _this_ way for me and my horse:" then, seeing him waver, this virago faltered out, "and I have been so tried to-day first by one, then by another, surely _you_ might have some pity on me. Oh! oh! oh! oh!" "Nay, nay," cried Griffith, all in a flutter: "I'll go without more words: as I am a gentleman I will sleep at Bolton this night, and will do my duty to the dead and the living. Don't you cry, sweetest: I give in. I find I have no will but yours." The next moment they were cantering side by side, and never drew rein till they reached the cross roads. "Now tell me one thing," stammered Griffith, with a most ghastly attempt at cheerful indifference. "How--do you--happen to be--on George Neville's horse?" Kate had been expecting this question for some time: yet she colored high when it did come. However, she had her answer pat. The horse was in the stable-yard, and fresh: her own was tired. "What was I to do, Griffith? And now," added she, hastily, "the sun will soon set, and the roads are bad: be careful. I wish I could ask you to sleep at our house: but--there are reasons--" she hesitated; she could not well tell him George Neville was to dine and sleep there. Griffith assured here there was no danger; his mare knew every foot of the way. They parted; Griffith rode to Bolton; and Kate rode home. It was past dinner-time. She ran upstairs, and hurried on her best gown and her diamond comb. For she began to quake now at the prank she had played with her guest's horse: and Nature taught her that the best way to soften censure is--to be beautiful. --on pardonne tout aux belles. And certainly she was passing fair; and queenly with her diamond comb. She came down-stairs, and was received by her father; he grumbled at being kept waiting for dinner. Kate easily appeased the good-natured Squire, and then asked what had become of Mr. Neville. "Oh, he is gone long ago: remembered, all of a sudden, he had promised to dine with a neighbor." Kate shook her head skeptically, but said nothing. But a good minute after, she inquired, "How did he go? on foot?" The Squire did not know. After dinner old Joe sought an interview, and was admitted into the dining-room: "Be it all right about the grey horse, Master?" "What of him?" asked Kate.