If some unkind friend had told her that her father's money and estates had anything to do with the match, she would have rejected the suggestion with scorn, and then gone to her mirror, to examine the sit of her ruffle, to give a slight touch to her painted cheeks, and perhaps add another ornamental patch to her chin. Sir Mark was in town now, preparing for the bridal, and Anne's heart was joyful within her, as she thought of the coming ceremony. For years she had been dreaming of and hoping for wedlock, and at last she was to be a wife--a lady of title--Dame Anne Leslie, and her eyes sparkled with the pleasure of the thought. The spot she had chosen for her reverie, though, brought up thoughts that made her sigh. There, close by where she was seated, Gil Carr had held her in his arms; and she sighed as she recalled how fondly she believed that she had loved him. And where was he now? A year had rolled by since he set sail, and no news of either him or his followers had reached Roehurst since; and as she thought of this the events of that terrible time came crowding back. "Poor Mace!" she said, softly; "I am sorry I hated you so much; and poor Gil Carr, he was a proper youth. Alack! What change one lives to see!" She felt half disposed to continue her walk, and go on as far as the Pool-house; but a slight shudder ran through her nerves at the thought. Somehow the ruins had a repelling influence upon her, and she shrank from going near, feeling that she had been to blame for what had taken place on that terrible night. "I don't think I'll go," she said softly; and she was about to rise and return, when she became aware that some one was standing close behind her, and, starting up, she found herself face to face with Mother Goodhugh, who had advanced as quietly as a cat. "Mother Goodhugh!" she cried in a startled voice. "Yes, my dearie, it be Mother Goodhugh. What can I do for thee, my beauty bird?" "Nothing, mother," replied Anne sharply. "Nothing, my dearie?" said the old woman laughing. "Nay, surely you want some help of the poor old woman who works to help you. Is it a new lover, my dear?" "I have told thee I do not want anything, mother," cried Anne peevishly. "Nay, then, come on to my cottage, where we can talk. Thou has not been to see me for months and months." "Nay, mother, I'll come no more. Good day, I must get me home." "Stay, child," cried Mother Goodhugh, clutching at her dress; "I want to talk to thee of him. Come to my place." "Loose me this instant, mother," cried Mistress Anne, indignantly. "How darest thou lay thy hands on me?" "Only because we are sisters, dearie." "Sisters?" "Ay, dearie; don't we practise the art together. But hist, hist, come to my cottage and let us talk." "Not a step will I go," cried Anne, angrily. "Nay, is it so? Ah, she has gotten what she wanted by my help--a brave, fine husband, and now she throws me by."