The girl came softly across the floor and put a hand on his wet forehead. "Can I do aught?" she asked.
"Ay, thou canst do much, girl. Dost recall how I railed at thee when first I heard of thy love for Wayne? And then how I softened to thy pleading? Od's life, I think thou hast bewitched me; for now I'm keener set on peace than ever I was on blows. Hearken, Janet! I rode down to Marsh not long since, as I told thee."
"Ay, sir—and didst drink a cup of wine with Wayne in token that the feud was killed."
"In token that the feud was killed," he echoed, with a sideways glance at her. "And now I cannot die till I have seen the peace fairly sealed, here by my bedside. Would Shameless Wayne bring his folk here to Wildwater, think'st thou, if I made thee my messenger?"
Janet caught his hands in hers. "Would he bring them? Why, sir, he would ask naught better," she cried. "Let me ride down to Marsh forthwith."
"Young blood, young blood!" said the Lean Man, with a laugh that brought the colour to her face. "I warrant the sight of Wayne is worth more to thee than fifty truces, for thou'rt eager as a hind in spring to seek this new-made lover of thine."
"Nay, grandfather," said Janet gravely; "I would do for peace sake all that I would do for love. Peace means life—life to Wayne—is that so slight a matter that I should scruple to ride down to him?"
"Wayne's life is no slight matter," said the other softly. "Get thee down to Marsh, Janet."
The girl grew very tender on the sudden. She had dealt amiss with her grandfather in times past, and he was rewarding her by kindness not to be believed.
"We shall thank you all our lives for this—all our lives," she cried.