Many such conversations as this one held up the girl's heart, and enabled her, through a pure and steadfast faith in her lover, to enter-- "----that finer atmosphere, Where footfalls of appointed things, Reverberant of days to be, Are heard in forecast echoings; Like wave-beats from a viewless sea." The first week of her trouble was the worst; but it was made tolerable by a long letter from Piers on the second day. It came in the Squire's mail-bag, and he could easily have retained it. But such a course would have been absolutely contradictious to his whole nature. He held the thick missive a moment in his hand, and glanced at the large red seal, lifting up so prominently the Richmoor arms, and then said,-- "Here is a letter for you, Kitty. It is from Piers. What am I to do with it?" "Please, Father, give it to me." "Give it to her, Father," said Mrs. Atheling; and Kate's eager face pleaded still more strongly. Rather reluctantly, he pushed the letter towards Kate, saying, "I would as leave not give it to thee, but I can trust to thy honour." "You may trust me, Father," she answered. And the Squire was satisfied with his relenting, when she came to him a few hours later, and said, "Thank you for giving me my letter, Father. It has made my trouble a great deal lighter. Now, Father, will you do me one more favour?" "Well, dear, what is it?" "See Piers for me, and tell him of the promise I made to you. Say I cannot break it, but that I send, by you, my thanks for his letter, and my love forever more." "I can't tell him about 'love forever more,' Kitty. That won't do at all." "Tell him, then, that all he says to me I say to him. Dear Father, make that much clear to him." "John, do what Kitty asks thee. It isn't much." "A man can't have his way in this house with two women to coax or bully him out of it. What am I to do?" "Just what Kitty asks you to do." [Illustration:] "Please, Father!" And the two words were sent straight to the father's heart with a kiss and a caress that were irresistible. Three days afterwards the Squire came home from a ride, very much depressed. He was cross with the servant who unbuttoned his gaiters, and he looked resentfully at Mrs. Atheling as she entered the room. "A nice message I was sent," he said to her as soon as they were alone. "That young man has given me a heart-ache. He has made me think right is wrong. He has made me feel as if I was the wickedest father in Yorkshire. And I know, in my soul, that I am doing right; and that there isn't a better father in the three kingdoms." "Whatever did he say?"