e
buried in her hands, while the gay gos-hawk preened his feathers, and
crooned to himself on the window sill. At last she sprang to her feet,
her eyes flashing and her mouth set determinedly. Taking a beautiful
ring from her hand, she tied it with trembling fingers under the bird's
wing where the letter had been.

"Tell him that with the ring I send him my heart," she whispered
passionately, and the gay gos-hawk just gave one little nod with his
head, and then sat quite still to hear the rest of her message. "Tell
him to set his bakers and his brewers to work," she went on firmly, "to
bake rich bridal cake, and brew the wedding ale, and while they are yet
fresh I will meet him at the Kirk o' St Mary, the Kirk he hath so often
told me of."

At these words the gay gos-hawk opened his eyes a shade wider. "Beshrew
me, lady," he said to himself, "but thou talkest as if thou hadst
wings"; but he knew his duty was to act and not to talk, so with one
merry whistle he spread his wings, and flew away to the North.

That night, when all the people in the great house were asleep, the
little postern opened very gently, and a gray-cloaked figure crept
softly out. It went slowly in the shadow of the trees until it came to
the little chapel by the lake; then it ran softly and lightly through
the long grass until it reached a tiny little cottage under a spreading
oak tree. It tapped three times on the window, and presently a quavering
old voice asked who was there.

"'Tis I, Dame Ursula; 'tis thy nursling Katherine. Open to me, I pray
thee; I am in sore need of thy help."

A moment later the door was opened by a little old woman, with a white
cap, and a rosy face like a wrinkled apple.

"And what need drives my little lady to me at this time of night?" she
asked.

Then the maiden told her story, and made her request.

The old woman listened, shaking her head, and laughing to herself
meanwhile. "I can do it, I can do it," she cried, "and 'twere worth a
year's wages to see thy proud stepdame's face when thy brothers return
to tell the tale." Then she drew Lady Katherine into her tiny room, and
set her down on a three-legged stool by the smouldering fire, while she
pottered about, and made up a draught, taking a few drops of liquid from
one bottle, and a few drops from another; for this curious old woman
seemed to keep quite a number of bottles, as well as various bunches of
herbs, on a high shelf at one end of her kitchen.

A