"When all is done," concluded Petronella--"and every load we think must surely be the last, there is so much of it--then he will forth to seek the gipsy in the forest, and tell her that the task is done. After that he will to London, to see how it fares with his cousins there, and to tell my uncle something of his tale, demanding, as I right well believe, the hand of our cousin Cherry in wedlock, since he may now support a wife in all comfort and ease. When that is done he will hither again, and Lady Humbert will ask to her house a gathering of kinsfolk for the Yuletide festival. And then the great secret will be told. The treasure will be divided between the Trevlyns assembled beneath this roof; and I trow, sweet Kate, that my Lord Culverhouse will contrive to be here, and that when the good news has been told to all, he will have small work in getting the parental blessing for those nuptials that will be celebrated anew with pomp and rejoicing, and will make thee in very truth, and without shadow of a doubt, the Viscountess Culverhouse." Kate, laughing and quivering, clasped Petronella in her arms, as she cried between laughter and tears: "And when that good hap befalls me, sweet Petronella, I will warrant that Philip will be in no wise behind in claiming his bride, and that thou as well as I shalt find that the recovered treasure of Trevlyn has smoothed our path to wedded happiness!" Chapter 20: How It Fared With Cherry. "Gramercy! what next, I wonder! Here's a pretty kettle of fish! I always did say that no good came of letters. I wish folks had more sense than to spend their time writing! I never get a letter but what it brings a peck of bother with it." Mistress Susan Holt was the speaker. She held in her hand a piece of paper which she was eying with many a scornful sniff. It had been left at the bridge house by a courier riding through to Westminster from the south country, and Martin Holt had called his sister down to his business parlour to open and read the missive. He now looked up from his books with a pardonable curiosity to say: "Well, sister Susan, letters do not trouble thee oft. And what may be the news in this one? and from whom comes it?" "From Prudence Dyson." "Prudence at the Cross Way House? And what says she? it is long since we had news of her." "So long that I had almost forgot where she was: and I marvel she should trouble us thus. Thy daughters are not serving wenches, Martin. What can Prudence be thinking of?" Martin smiled slightly. It seemed to him that beneath his sister's iron rule his daughters did little but toil after the fashion of serving wenches from morning to night. As for Susan herself, she worked harder than any servant she had ever had beneath her sway. "What says the letter?" he asked briefly; "what is the matter that angers thee?"