"Oh," she cried faintly, "I cannot understand it; but something in my heart tells me that you have seen my own dear love." Then the gay gos-hawk put his head on one side, and whistled a merry tune; then he looked straight into her eyes and sang a low sweet one; then he pecked and pecked at one of his wings until the tender-hearted little lady took hold of him gently to see if he were hurt, and who can describe her delight and astonishment when she found a tiny letter from Lord William tied in a little roll under his wing. The letter was very sad, and the tears came into her eyes as she read it. It told her how he had already sent her three letters which had never reached her, and how he felt as if he must soon die, he was so sick with longing for her. When she had read it she sat for a long time thinking, with her face buried in her hands, while the gay gos-hawk preened his feathers, and crooned to himself on the window sill. At last she sprang to her feet, her eyes flashing and her mouth set determinedly. Taking a beautiful ring from her hand, she tied it with trembling fingers under the bird's wing where the letter had been. "Tell him that with the ring I send him my heart," she whispered passionately, and the gay gos-hawk just gave one little nod with his head, and then sat quite still to hear the rest of her message. "Tell him to set his bakers and his brewers to work," she went on firmly, "to bake rich bridal cake, and brew the wedding ale, and while they are yet fresh I will meet him at the Kirk o' St Mary, the Kirk he hath so often told me of." At these words the gay gos-hawk opened his eyes a shade wider. "Beshrew me, lady," he said to himself, "but thou talkest as if thou hadst wings"; but he knew his duty was to act and not to talk, so with one merry whistle he spread his wings, and flew away to the North. That night, when all the people in the great house were asleep, the little postern opened very gently, and a gray-cloaked figure crept softly out. It went slowly in the shadow of the trees until it came to the little chapel by the lake; then it ran softly and lightly through the long grass until it reached a tiny little cottage under a spreading oak tree. It tapped three times on the window, and presently a quavering old voice asked who was there. "'Tis I, Dame Ursula; 'tis thy nursling Katherine. Open to me, I pray thee; I am in sore need of thy help." A moment later the door was opened by a little old woman, with a white cap, and a rosy face like a wrinkled apple. "And what need drives my little lady to me at this time of night?" she asked. Then the maiden told her story, and made her request.