"Dear Peter," whispered the young girl, and the tears rose to her eyes.
"Bless you, my child," laying his hand on her shoulder. Then just as she was turning away, a curious, listening expression crept over his face. "Yes, yes," he murmured, as if in reply to some inaudible voice, "yes."
Ysenda felt a little frightened, and of this Peter seemed at once aware. He patted her again.
"Do not be alarmed," he said, with a smile. "I have no dealings with the black arts. But certain things are communicated to me in ways that I must not reveal. And just now—I am glad you were still here. Trouble, or rather perplexity—for the trouble is mingled with joy—is at hand for our good old friend Dame Martha. Will you go to see her to-morrow, Ysenda, and learn about it?"
"I was already intending to enquire how she is," said the girl. "I will certainly not fail to see her, and I will do all I can to help her, you may be sure."
"Of that I have no doubt," said Peter. "Good-night, my child."
Many things passed through Ysenda's mind as she walked slowly home. She had no mother, and her father, though devoted to her, his only child, was a hard man. He thought her fanciful and romantic, as she had on several occasions refused to marry to please him. For his great idea was that her husband should be a wealthy man.
"He must at least show on his side as handsome a sum as will be the dowry I give you," he had often repeated. But so far, none of the suitors that in this respect were approved of by the father had found favour in his daughter's eyes, so that he began to think the girl had determined against marrying at all, little suspecting the love that had already crept into her sweet heart.
"Ah, well," he thought to himself, "better live single than make a poor choice of some pauper who would squander her fortune, though for that matter, unless I look to it, she will be for giving it all away in charity once the breath's out of my body. Ysenda is too 'giving' by half."
And with this idea, rich though he was, the father kept the girl but slenderly supplied with money. She had to account to him for every farthing, and only by denying herself many little things she had naturally a right to expect, was she able to help her poorer neighbours. And without old Peter's contributions, though in cash he had not much to give, still less would it have been possible for her to assist those in need.