of the house should be broken. Can I trust
thee, Kate, to take my place in this? Wilt thou strive to still thy
aunt's fears and keep watch over all who come and go, that our
doors may still open to the poor, whilst no needless terrors be
inflicted on the timid women who will be forced to keep guard
alone?"

"I will gladly strive to do all I may," answered Kate, who had been
Lady Humbert's companion now long enough to know much of her
methods.

"It may well be that none will come," said Lady Humbert cheerfully,
with a smile and a nod of approval. "These be ill days for
travellers, and in the winter season few pass this way. But such as
do seek shelter from the storm or from hunger or peril must not be
turned away disappointed. Look to it, Kate. I trust that matter to
thee. I shall ask thee for the account of thy stewardship on my
return."

And then the mistress of the house gathered her train together and
set forth, riding her steady old horse as fearlessly as though she
had been fifty years younger, and nodding a brisk farewell all
round as she turned out of the gate upon the highway so close at
hand.

Mistress Dowsabel wept feebly for a short while, and seemed
disposed to start and tremble at every sound. But Petronella got a
book and settled herself to read to her, whilst she forgot her
fears in the intricacies of her well-beloved tapestry work. As for
Kate, she called to Cherry, and began to set about those household
duties which the mistress of the house had given into her charge,
so that the timid invalid might be spared all trouble and anxiety.

Cherry was a very happy girl in those days. Her position in that
household was slightly anomalous, and at first it had been a little
difficult to find the right niche for her. As the niece of Dyson,
who had summoned her thither to act in the capacity of lady's maid,
her place would by rights have been the servants' hall and kitchen;
but then, as Kate had seen at once, it would scarce be right for
Cuthbert Trevlyn's future wife to take so lowly a station as that
of a serving wench.

Cuthbert was no longer the impecunious son of Nicholas Trevlyn,
dependent upon his own wit and energy for the place he might hold
in the world. He was the finder of that vast hoard of lost
treasure, which had proved so far more valuable than the most
sanguine hopes had pictured. By every rule of right and justice a
large share of this treasure should come to him. He would be a man
of