iss him, Catharine, in token of forgiveness."

"Not so," said Catharine; "I have done him too much grace already. When
he has seen the errant damsel safe home, it will be time enough to claim
his reward."

"Meantime," said Henry, "I will claim, as your host, what you will not
allow me on other terms."

He folded the fair maiden in his arms, and was permitted to take the
salute which she had refused to bestow.

As they descended the stair together, the old man laid his hand on the
smith's shoulder, and said: "Henry, my dearest wishes are fulfilled;
but it is the pleasure of the saints that it should be in an hour of
difficulty and terror."

"True," said the smith; "but thou knowest, father, if our riots be
frequent at Perth, at least they seldom last long."

Then, opening a door which led from the house into the smithy, "here,
comrades," he cried, "Anton, Cuthbert, Dingwell, and Ringen! Let none of
you stir from the place till I return. Be as true as the weapons I have
taught you to forge: a French crown and a Scotch merrymaking for you, if
you obey my command. I leave a mighty treasure in your charge. Watch
the doors well, let little Jannekin scout up and down the wynd, and have
your arms ready if any one approaches the house. Open the doors to no
man till father Glover or I return: it concerns my life and happiness."

The strong, swarthy giants to whom he spoke answered: "Death to him who
attempts it!"

"My Catharine is now as safe," said he to her father, "as if twenty men
garrisoned a royal castle in her cause. We shall pass most quietly to
the council house by walking through the garden."

He led the way through a little orchard accordingly, where the birds,
which had been sheltered and fed during the winter by the good natured
artisan, early in the season as it was, were saluting the precarious
smiles of a February sun with a few faint and interrupted attempts at
melody.

"Hear these minstrels, father," said the smith; "I laughed at them this
morning in the bitterness of my heart, because the little wretches sung,
with so much of winter before them. But now, methinks, I could bear a
blythe chorus, for I have my Valentine as they have theirs; and whatever
ill may lie before me for tomorrow, I am today the happiest man in
Perth, city or county, burgh or landward."

"Yet I must allay your joy," said the old glover, "though, Heaven knows,
I share it. Poor Oliver Proudfute, the inoffensive fool that you and