"Bless the child--no--" answered Keziah hastily "How should I know aught of him? But, Cherry, my sweet sister, be not angry with me if I say it. Cuthbert is a Trevlyn, for all that our aunt was his mother. He is of rank above ours. He may have made friends in his own walk in life. He may repent him of the friendships he made at the bridge house. Be not wroth with me for saying it, but men before him have gone forth and returned not to those who looked for them. But if he comes I will tell him--I will tell him all. Only do not too greatly count upon it. I grieve so lest thou shouldest be disappointed."
Cherry said nothing. She would not even by a word seem to doubt Cuthbert's fidelity. Keziah, if she did not know how matters stood betwixt them, knew enough to have a very shrewd suspicion of it. She had been in some sort Cherry's confidante. Both the sisters had some knowledge of each other's secret.
The next evening, just before it grew dark, as Cherry was sitting alone in the upper parlour, exempt from household toil that she might get her own wardrobe ready, and now having laid her needle aside because she could no longer see, the door opened, and the tall, loose figure of Jacob Dyson appeared framed against the dark background of the staircase behind, and the girl sprang to her feet with a little exclamation of pleasure and welcome.
"I thought that thou wouldst come to see me, Jacob. Thou hast heard that I am going away?"
"Ay, I have heard it. Art thou glad to be going, Cherry?"
"Yes, verily I am. I am sick at heart for news of him, and perchance I may get it where I be going. I shall be near his home and his kinsfolk."
Jacob had sat down, and was turning his cap round and round in those large red hands that were such an offence to the girl. After a few moments of silence he looked up and said:
"Cherry, hast thou ever thought of the things thou hast said to me--of the promise thou hast given?"
She bent her head low, and the whispered "Yes," was barely audible.
"Thou wilt not go back from thy word?"