had elicited from
those who envied Gregory of his privilege.

"Kate, Kate!" said the old baron, joining in the laugh, "will ever
mortal be able to seize what are sae weel guarded? I believe ye will be
able to argue yer husband oot o' his richts o' proving whether thae
little traitors be made of mortal flesh or ripe cherries. But wine is
better than women's lips; and since Kate has sae cleverly got quit o'
her obligation, I'll mak amends by gieing ye a _surrogatum_."

Several measures of good old wine were served out to the men by the
hands of Katherine, who rejoiced in the contradiction of refusing one
thing to give a better. Her health, and that of Innerkepple, were drunk
with loud shouts of approbation; and the wassail was kept up till a late
hour of the night.

Meanwhile, Otterstone was struggling with his disappointment, and
nourishing a deep spirit of revenge. The shame of his defeat,
accomplished by a girl, was insufferable; and the gnawing pain of the
loss of honour and men, in a cause where he had calculated securely on
crushing his supposed enemy, affected him so severely, that he sent, it
was reported, for his son, who had lived from his infancy at St. Omers,
to come over to administer to him consolation. When Innerkepple heard of
these things, he marvelled greatly at the stubbornness of his neighbour,
whom he wished, above all things, to drag, _nolente volente_, into a
deep wassail in the old wainscotted hall of his castle, whereby he
might drown, with reason itself, all their hereditary grudges, and
transform a foe into a friend. These feelings were also participated in
by the warlike Kate, who acknowledged that she did not, on that
memorable day, fight for anything on earth that she knew of, but the
safety of her father, and the sheer glory of victory. She entertained
the best possible feelings towards Otterstone, though she admitted, with
a laugh, that if his men had not that day run for their lives, she would
have fought till they and their lord lay all dead upon the field, and
the glory of Otterstone was extinguished for ever.

A considerable period that passed in quietness, seemed to indicate that
the anger of the vanquished baron had escaped by the valves appointed by
nature for freeing the liver of its redundant bile. Meanwhile,
Innerkepple's universal love of mankind increased, as his friendship for
the juice of the grape grew stronger and stronger, and his potations
waxed deeper and deeper; so