I have a little New Testament now of my own, full of
sweet promises and words of love and peace. When I read of the
pearly gates and the streets of gold, and the city into which
nothing unholy may enter, I long sorely to leave behind this world
of sin and sorrow and find a refuge there.

"But I would know more of thee, Cuthbert, and of what thou hast
seen and done since thou hast left the Gate House. For me I have
naught to tell. Life here is ever the same. But thou must have done
and seen so much. May I not hear thy tale? May I not learn how it
has fared with thee?"

Cuthbert was willing enough to outpour his story to her, sitting
beside her in the old chantry, where so many happy hours of their
shadowed childhood had been spent. He told of his adventures by the
way, of his night with the gipsies, of his timely rescue of Cherry
and his admittance to his uncle's house. He told of his uncle's
wonderful story of the gold that was to be all for his sister; told
of the life at the bridge house, and his attachment to his cousin
Cherry. The only matter he named not was that of his meeting with
Master Robert Catesby, and all that had followed in which he was
concerned. Petronella would only be bewildered by so many strange
things. It was enough to tell her of his recent adventures in the
forest, and his growing hopes of coming upon traces of the lost
treasure.

Petronella listened to the whole of this tale with parted lips and
wide-open eyes, as a child listens to a tale of fairy romance and
wonder. She could scarce believe that all these strange things had
befallen her own brother; but as she questioned and he answered,
she gradually began to understand, to enter into his feelings, and
to obtain a clearer comprehension of the situation of affairs. Her
intercourse with the Trevlyns of the Chase had done something to
widen her knowledge of life, and Cuthbert found that her mind had
matured and expanded in a fashion he had hardly expected. He
wondered where she had picked up some of the bits of experience
that fell from her lips from time to time, and he looked somewhat
searchingly into her face.

"Methinks, my sister, that time has not stood still with thee since
I went away. Thou art wondrous wise for thy years. Who has been thy
instructor?"

Even in the moonlight he could see the sudden flush that dyed her
cheek and neck at the question.

"I have been to the Chase as much as our father would
permit--indeed, I fear m