"If you should deal two loving hearts The sharpest stroke of woe; That one should weep above the turf And one should sleep below: That one should wear the widow's weed And one the funeral pall, You should but prove the force of love, For true love conquers all!" "Forgive, me sweet," as she saw that I was weeping, "but I do believe that this year may yet come to a good ending. Man hath no right to forbid that which God hath nowhere forbidden. Do but put your trust in Him, and all will yet be well." The Duke had insisted upon lending Mistress Davis an easy palfrey, and me a horse litter, as I was yet too feeble to ride a-horseback safely, and also a guard for the journey. My mistress would fain have had me take a maid to attend upon me, but this, with Mistress Curtis her approval, I declined, knowing that such a person would but be a nuisance in the family of plain people like Jacob and Hannah Yates. I was to keep the palfrey, however, and the duke would bear this as well as all my other expenses. "Should this change agree with you, you may by and by travel down to Hereham," said his Grace, "but wherever you are, remember, Mistress Corbet, that you are to be to us as a daughter. Do what I would, I could never begin to repay the obligation I owe to you in saving my dear wife from death or lifelong injury." "I thought not of any obligation, your Grace," said I. "That is the beauty of it," he answered, with that sweet, sunny smile of his; my Lady Frances's eldest boy hath just his grandsire's manner; "you did not stop to think—that was the beauty of it, as I say—but acted out of the love and goodness of your heart. It was a happy hour for all of us when you came under this roof, and I hope you may come back to it some day. But now, my child, let me give you a word of serious counsel. Keep you close and guarded, and go not much abroad. There is no game too small for some hawks to fly at. I would I knew where your good uncle was, that I might send you to him, out of the reach of danger. If at any time, I send one to guide you to another place of safety, I will send with him this token," showing me a ring he was used to wear, "and do you go with him at once, without any delay or question." I promised to do so, and so he bade me farewell, with as much kindness as ever a great man showed to a poor young gentlewoman. He hath ever remained in my mind the very mirror and pattern of a noble man. He was not without his faults (as who is?), but no one could say he ever curried favor with a great man, or ever oppressed a poor one. Not one of his family, down to the very scullery boys and wenches, ever passed him without a smile or a kind word, and nobody ever sat at his table without feeling himself a welcome guest. He was, indeed, what my uncle Davis had called him, a mirror of true knighthood.