“Well-a-day! what a heart you have, lady! There is not one in the kitchen but stout Richard would venture that; and though he could not find any thing the other day when he followed it, he’s obstinate as a mule, and says it’s no ghost, but a young gallant that’s under hiding at my mother’s, in Warwick Liberties; but there is nobody thinks with him at Milverton.” “Well, then, I am of Richard’s way of thinking, in part:--it is a tall man; but whether young, and whether under hiding, I know not.” “Why, there is a gentleman under hiding at my mother’s, sure enough, and one that knows my lady, as she says, and was quite glad when he heard that she first began to mend.” “Ruth,” said Katharine, raising her head from the pillow, “if you will go and make me some fresh barley water, I think I shall like it better than this fever drink.” The wish was no sooner expressed than her maid vanished to do her bidding, and Katharine and her friend Jane were left by themselves. “Jane,” said the invalid, “come and sit by me: I have something to tell you, and I have to ask of you a very strange favour. I desired to relieve my heart of its burden, but have hitherto delayed it. You know, Jane, that I love you, and that I have confidence in your attachment to me; but if it were not for my present helplessness, which compels me to engage your service as a true friend, whose good sense and firm principles I can safely trust, the subject which I am about to speak of would never have passed my lips even to you. The gentleman of whom they speak is my cousin Francis. He it was who so perplexed and alarmed the family with his mysterious music, and who still, I fear, haunts the same spot in silence and anxiety.” “Your cousin Francis!--why, dear Kate, I thought he was in America!” “And I myself thought so until the night when he made his return known to me in tones which I could not mistake, and the meaning of which I but too well understood.” “I have been long aware, Katharine, that he loved you.” “You have, I believe, already discerned it. Alas! it is true--fatally for his own happiness and for mine;--but, Jane, have you courage for the task which I would impose upon you?” “Yes, Kate: you can ask me nothing too hard for me, if I can only feel that I do what may comfort you.” “Well, Jane, you must contrive to see my cousin Francis; to deliver to him a note from me with your own hands, and to urge his immediate departure from this neighbourhood. Now, love, bring me those small tablets and paper, and support me while I write the few words which I would say.” It was a sight for pity to see that noble damsel, her back propped by pillows, and the arm of her young friend tenderly supporting her, trace in silence and with a nervous hand the few lines which were to banish from the neighbourhood of Milverton her worthy and devoted lover.