"There is small cause, but Dowsabel is by nature timorous, and she will lean on thee, child though thou art, when I am gone. There be certain charges I would lay upon thee. The men will be gone, all but old Thomas within doors and Joshua without; wherefore I will ask thee to go round the house thyself at dusk each eve, and see that all bolts and bars be securely drawn. That is Andrew's work, but he will be with me. Dyson and thou hadst better go together--or thou and Cherry. Thou wilt not be afraid of such a task?"
"Afraid? marry no! Cherry and I will do it gladly. She is a merry-hearted lassie, and I like her well. Is there aught else, my lady aunt?"
Lady Humbert, standing beside the fire and drawing on her riding gloves, looked into Kate's bright face with a thoughtful smile.
"If I could trust thy discretion as I trust thy courage and sense, my giddy-pated maiden, there is one more charge I would lay upon thee."
The light of laughter in Kate's eyes changed suddenly to something deeper and graver. She came one step nearer and laid her hand on Lady Humbert's arm.
"Try me," she said simply. "Methinks I am not so giddy as they deem me. I have thought, I have suffered, I have been forced to possess my soul in patience. Try and see if I may not be trusted in this thing."
Lady Humbert gazed a moment into the clear eyes, and then said:
"I will try thee, child. It is no such heavy charge I would lay upon thee, yet it is one that thy aunt Dowsabel would fear to undertake. She would fain close the doors of the Cross Way House against all strangers and wayfarers who come to them in the absence of the mistress; but that is not my wish. Dost thou know, child, the name the Cross Way House has ever held with those who fare through the forest tracks?"
"I have heard it spoken of as a place where none in need is ever turned away," answered Kate.
"Ay, and so it was in those good old days when Wyverns held open house here, and were beloved from far and near. Alas! those good old days are passed away; for our fortunes are fallen, and we have no longer the power to entertain in such bounteous fashion. And yet I have striven, as thou hast doubtless seen, that the poor, the aged, the sick, and the needy are never turned from these doors without bite or sup to cheer their hearts and send them rejoicing on their way. Strange persons come to the house from time to time; but all are admitted to such good cheer as is ours to offer, and never has my hospitality been abused. Fugitives from the robbers of the road have been admitted here; yet never has this lone house been attacked. Wounded robbers have sought shelter here, bleeding nigh to death, and their wounds have been dressed by these hands, and their lives saved through our ministrations. To the cry of poverty or distress the doors have ever opened, be the distressed one worthy or no. Never have we had cause to regret what we have done for evil men or good. Never has our hospitality been repaid by treachery or deceit."