"I do not doubt that, sir, from so manly an adversary; and I shall do myself the honor to come." Such was Seville's reply. The rivals then saluted each other profoundly, and parted. Hammersley and Rickards lingered behind their principals to settle their little bet about Kate's affections: and, by-the-by, they were indiscreet enough to discuss this delicate matter within a dozen yards of Tom Leicester: they forgot that "little pitchers have long ears." Catherine Peyton rode slowly home, and thought it all over as she went; and worried herself finely. She was one that winced at notoriety; and she could not hope to escape it now. How the gossips would talk about her! they would say the gentlemen had fought about her; and she had parted them for love of one of them. And then the gentlemen themselves! The strict neutrality she had endeavored to maintain on Scutchemsee Nob, in order to make peace, would it not keep them both her suitors? She foresaw she should be pulled to pieces, and live in hot water, and be "the talk of the county." There were but two ways out: she must marry one of them, and petition the other not to shoot him; or else she must take the veil, and so escape them both. She preferred the latter alternative. She was more enthusiastic in religion than in any earthly thing: and now the angry passions of men thrust her the same road that her own devout mind had always drawn her. As soon as she got home she sent a message to Father Francis, who drove her conscience, and begged him to come and advise her. After that, she did the wisest thing, perhaps, she had done all day. Went to bed. CHAPTER VII The sun was just setting when Catherine's maid came into her room and told her Father Francis was below. She sent down to say she counted on his sleeping at Peyton Hall; and she would come down to him in half an hour. She then ordered a refection to be prepared for him in her boudoir; and made her toilet with all reasonable speed, not to keep him waiting. Her face beamed with quiet complacency now: for the Holy man's very presence in the house was a comfort to her. Father Francis was a very stout muscular man, with a ruddy countenance; he never wore gloves, and you saw at once he was not a gentleman by birth. He had a fine voice; it was deep, mellow, and when he chose, sonorous. This, and his person, ample, but not obese, gave him great weight, especially with his female pupils. If he was not quite so much reverenced by the men, yet he was both respected and liked; in fact, he had qualities that make men welcome in every situation: good humour, good sense, and tact. A good son of his Church, and early trained to let no occasion slip of advancing her interests.