"Giles and I went out at night to bid him be of good cheer. And there at the tower foot was a brave lass, quite strange to me I vow, on the same errand." "Lookee there now, Kate." "At first we did properly frighten one another, through the place his bad name, and our poor heads being so full o' divels, and we whitened a bit in moonshine. But next moment, quo' I 'You are Margaret:' 'And you are Kate,' quo' she. Think on't!" "Did one ever?--'Twas Gerard! He will have been talking backwards and forrards of thee to her, and her to thee." In return for this, Kate bestowed on Catherine one of the prettiest presents in nature--the composite kiss: _i. e._, she imprinted on her cheek a single kiss, which said-- 1. Quite correct. 2. Good, clever mother, for guessing so right and quick. 3. How sweet for us twain to be of one mind again after never having been otherwise. 4. Etc. "Now then, speak thy mind, child, Gerard is not here. Alas, what am I saying? would to Heaven he were." "Well then, mother, she is comely, and wrongs her picture but little." "Eh, dear; hark to young folk! I am for good acts, not good looks. Loves she my boy as he did ought to be loved?" "Sevenbergen is farther from the Stadthouse than we are," said Kate, thoughtfully; "yet she was there afore me." Catherine nodded intelligence. "Nay, more, she had got him out ere I came. Ay, down from the captives' tower." Catherine shook her head incredulously. "The highest tower for miles! It is not feasible." "'Tis sooth though. She and an old man she brought found means and wit to send him up a rope. There 'twas dangling from his prison, and our Giles went up it. When first I saw it hang, I said, 'This is glamour.' But when the frank lass's arms came round me, and her bosom did beat on mine, and her cheeks wet, then said I, ''Tis not glamour: 'tis love.' For she is not like me, but lusty and able; and, dear heart, even I, poor frail creature, do feel sometimes as I could move the world for them I love: I love _you_, mother. And she loves Gerard." "God bless her for't! God bless her!" "But." "But what, lamb?" "Her love, is it for very certain honest? 'Tis most strange; but that very thing, which hath warmed your heart, hath somewhat cooled mine towards her; poor soul. She is no wife, you know mother when all is done." "Humph! They have stood at th' altar together." "Ay, but they went as they came, maid and bachelor." "The parson, saith he so?" "Nay, for that I know not." "Then I'll take no man's word but his in such a tangled skein." After some reflection she added, "Natheless art right, girl; I'll to Sevenbergen alone. A wife I am but not a slave. We are all in the dark here. And she holds the clue. I must question her, and no one by; least of all you. I'll not take my lily to a house wi' a spot, no, not to a palace o' gold and silver."