"Nay, nay," cried Griffith, all in a flutter, "I'll go without more words; as I am a gentleman, I will sleep at Bolton this night, and will do my duty to the dead and the living. Don't you cry, sweetest; I give in. I find I have no will but yours." The next moment they were cantering side by side, and never drew rein till they reached the cross-roads. "Now tell me one thing," stammered Griffith, with a most ghastly attempt at cheerful indifference. "How--do you--happen to be--on George Neville's horse?" Kate had been expecting this question for some time; yet she colored high when it did come. However, she had her answer pat. The horse was in the stable-yard, and fresh; her own was tired. "What was I to do, Griffith? And now," added she, hastily, "the sun will soon set, and the roads are bad; be careful. I wish I could ask you to sleep at our house; but--there are reasons"-- She hesitated; she could not well tell him George Neville was to dine and sleep there. Griffith assured her there was no danger; his mare knew every foot of the way. They parted: Griffith rode to Bolton, and Kate rode home. It was past dinner-time. She ran up stairs, and hurried on her best gown and her diamond comb. For she began to quake now at the prank she had played with her guest's horse; and Nature taught her that the best way to soften censure is--to be beautiful. "On pardonne tout aux belles." And certainly she was passing fair, and queenly with her diamond comb. She came down stairs and was received by her father. He grumbled at being kept waiting for dinner. Kate easily appeased the good-natured Squire, and then asked what had become of Mr. Neville. "Oh, he is gone long ago! Remembered, all of a sudden, he had promised to dine with a neighbor." Kate shook her head skeptically, but said nothing. But a good minute after, she inquired,-- "How did he go? on foot?" The Squire did not know. After dinner old Joe sought an interview, and was admitted into the dining-room. "Be it all right about the gray horse, Master?" "What of him?" asked Kate. "He be gone to Neville Court, Mistress. But I suppose" (with a horrid leer) "it is all right. Muster Neville told me all about it. He said, says he,-- "'Some do break a kine or the likes on these here j'yful occasions; other some do exchange goold rings. Your young mistress and me, _we_ exchange nags. She takes my pieball, I take her gray,' says he. 'Saddle him for me, Joe,' says he, 'and wish me j'y.' "So I clapped Muster Neville's saddle on the gray, and a gave me a goolden guinea, a did; and I was so struck of a heap I let un go without wishing on him j'y; but I hollered it arter un, as hard as I could. How you looks! It be all right, bain't it?" Squire Peyton laughed heartily, and said he concluded it was all right. "The piebald," said he, "is rising five, and _I've_ had the gray ten years. We have got the sunnyside of the bargain, Joe."