Orsolya had remained in the cavern until all apprehension of the return of the Mongols was over; and then she had betaken herself to the "barn" in Frata, with quite a regiment of poor, homeless folk, whom she supported as best she could. There Master Peter found her and Dora; and there, too, he met his nephew Akos, and heard from him how he had escaped with Mária from the Kun massacre, and heard from Dora how she had become quite attached to his bride, and no longer wondered at her cousin's choice. There is little more to say. But two or three months later, when Master Peter and his daughter had not only been restored to one another, but were once more at home, when the castle had been rebuilt, the hidden treasures found uninjured and brought back to the light of day, when Dora had recovered the effects of her terrible journey and was beginning sometimes to feel as if its horrors were a dream--she received an offer of marriage from the haughty Paul Héderváry, who had lost his wife in Dalmatia, and was now willing enough to conform to ancient usage and bestow himself upon her cousin, "his first love," as he was pleased to call her, the only child of the now wealthy Master Peter, and the heiress of his large estates. It was very magnanimous of him, he felt, and he expected Dora and her father to see the matter in the same light, and to show their appreciation of the honour he was doing them. Great therefore was his astonishment, when he received, not the willing assent he expected, but "a basket," or in other words a refusal, courteously worded, but unmistakably decided. He was even more than astonished, he was annoyed, mortified, for "secrets" of this kind were sure to leak out, even though the parties concerned held their tongues. There would certainly be some kind friend to spread abroad the news, that Paul Héderváry had been refused! Little as he cared for Paul, Master Peter was gratified by the proposal, if only because it would set Dora right in the eyes of the world. Possibly he would have been pleased to see her the great man's wife, in spite of all that had come and gone, but if so, he cared for her too much to press his views, and when Dora herself asked his consent to her marriage with Talabor, he was not the man to say her nay! How could he, when but for Talabor he would have had no daughter, whether to give or to keep? And now he would give and keep too, for she could and must always live with him, and this reflection consoled him for any regret he might have felt at not having a more notable son-in-law, with a family-castle and estates of his own.