The turret was ornamented from top to bottom with short ledges consisting of half-bricks. This ledge, shallow as it was, gave a slight foothold, insufficient in itself; but he grasped the strong branches of the ivy with a powerful hand, and so between the two contrived to get up and hang himself out close to her. "Sweet mistress," said he, "put out your hand to me; for I can't take it against your will this time. I have got but one arm." But this she declined. "No, no," said she; "you do nothing but torment and terrify me,--there." And so gave it him; and he mumbled it. This last feat won her quite. She thought no other man could have got to her there with two arms; and Griffith had done it with one. She said to herself, "How he loves me!--more than his own neck." And then she thought, "I shall be wife to a strong man; that is one comfort." In this softened mood she asked him demurely, would he take a friend's advice. "If that friend is you, ay." "Then," said she, "I'll do a downright brazen thing, now my hand is in. I declare I'll tell you how to secure me. You make me plight my troth with you this minute, and exchange rings with you, _whether I like or not_; engage my honor in this foolish business, and if you do that, I really do think you will have me in spite of them all. But there,--la!--am I worth all this trouble?" Griffith did not share this chilling doubt. He poured forth his gratitude, and then told her he had got his mother's ring in his pocket; "I meant to ask you to wear it," said he. "And why didn't you?" "Because you became an heiress all of a sudden." "Well, what signifies which of us has the dross, so that there is enough for both?" "That is true," said Griffith, approving his own sentiment, but not recognizing his own words. "Here's my mother's ring, on my little finger, sweet mistress. But I must ask you to draw it off, for I have but one hand." Kate made a wry face, "Well, that is my fault," said she, "or I would not take it from you so." She drew off his ring, and put it on her finger. Then she gave him her largest ring, and had to put it on his little finger for him. "You are making a very forward girl of me," said she, pouting exquisitely. He kissed her hand while she was doing it. "Don't you be so silly," said she; "and, you horrid creature, how you smell of wine! The bullet, please." "The bullet!" exclaimed Griffith. "What bullet?" "_The_ bullet. The one you were wounded with for my sake. I am told you put it in your pocket; and I see something bulge in your waistcoat. That bullet belongs to me now." "I think you are a witch," said he. "I do carry it about next my heart. Take it out of my waistcoat, if you will be so good."