"I was riding to thee, Janet. What brings thee here? No ill news, is't?" he cried.
"Nay, Ned—save that grandfather is not like to live the day through."
"There's no danger threatens thee?"
"Never less, Ned. Whither wast galloping so hard, and why dost look so tempest-driven?"
"What hast done to me, Janet?" he cried. "I'm full of dreads since winning thee; and just because Mistress Wayne saw thee last night in a vision, I needs must come helter-skelter to learn if thou wast safe."
"If the vision foretold disaster, Ned, methinks it erred—and, by that token, it is well we met, for I have a message to thee."
"What, from Wildwater?"
"Ay. Grandfather, like thee, is full of doubts—but his are a sick man's terrors. His fury I know, and his tenderness—ay, I have seen him panic-stricken, too—but I cannot tell what ails him now. His talk is all of peace between our houses; and yet, when he speaks of my wedding thee, he scarce knows whether to jest or scowl."
"I was a youngster, and chance gave me the better of the fight," said Wayne quietly. "Canst wonder he grudges it a little?"
"It must be so—and, Ned, we've happiness to thank him for. His message was that, soon as he is dead, you are to come with your folk to wake beside the body. My kinsmen are rough, Ned, but they know grandfather's wish, and when ye stand beside the bier with them, be sure the thought of death will soften them to the truce."