The young man laid his hand on the Squire's hand, and looked at him steadily and entreatingly. "Squire, I am going away from England. Let me see Kate before I go." "You are asking me to break my word, Piers." "The law of kindness may sometimes be greater than the law of truth; the greatest of these is charity--is love. I love her so! I love her so that I am only half alive without her. I do entreat you to have pity on me--on us both! She loves me!" and Piers pleaded until the Squire's eyes were full of tears. He could not resist words so hot from a true and loving heart; and he finally said,-- "It may be that my word, and my pride in my word, are of less consequence than the trouble of two suffering human hearts; Piers, right or wrong, you may see Kitty. I am not sure I am doing right, but I will risk the uncertainty--this time." However, if the Squire had any qualms of conscience on the subject, they were driven away by Kitty's gratitude and delight. He arrived at Atheling about the noon hour, and Kitty was the first to see and to welcome him. She had been gathering cherries, and was coming through the garden with her basket full of the crimson drupes, when he entered the gates. She set the fruit on the ground, and ran to meet him, and took him proudly in to her mother, and fussed over his many little comforts to his heart's content and delight. Nothing was said about Piers until after dinner, which was hurried forward at the Squire's request; but afterwards, when he sat at the open casement smoking, he called Kate to him. He took her on his knee and whispered, "Kate, there is somebody coming this afternoon." "Yes," she said, "we have sent word to Annie. She will be here." "I was not thinking of Annie. I was thinking of thee, my little maid. There is somebody coming to see _thee_." "You can't mean Piers? Oh, Father, do you mean Piers?" "I do." Then she laid her cheek against his cheek. She kissed him over and over, answering in low, soft speech, "Oh, my good Father! Oh, my dear Father! Oh, Father, how I love you!" "Well, Kitty," he answered, "thou dost not throw thy love away. I love thee, God knows it. Now run upstairs and don thy prettiest frock." "White or blue, Father?" "Well, Kitty," he answered, with a thoughtful smile, "I should say white, and a red rose or two to match thy cheeks, and a few forget-me-nots to match thy eyes. Bless my heart, Kitty! thou art lovely enough any way. Stay with me." "No, Father, I will go away and come again still lovelier;" and she sped like a bird upstairs. "It may be all wrong," muttered the Squire; "but if it is, then I must say, wrong can make itself very agreeable." [Illustration]