'When is he going, if you please?' she asked, in a troubled voice.
'He must go in a litter by the road,' I answered. 'Peter here will see to it this morning.'
'Could I not go with him?' she said.
I looked at Peter, and he at me. He nodded.
'I see no reason why you should not, if you prefer it,' I said. 'Either way you will be safe.'
'I should prefer it,' she muttered, in a low tone. And then she went out to get something for Steve, and we saw her no more.
'Drunken Steve is in luck,' Peter said, looking after her with a smile. 'She is wonderfully taken with him. She is a--she is a good girl, Papist or no Papist,' he added thoughtfully.
I am not sure that he would have indorsed that later in the day. At the last moment, when I was about to leave the house to go up to the castle my way, and Steve and his party were on the point of starting by the West Gate and the road, something happened which gave both of us a kind of shock, though neither said a word to the other. Marie had brought down the little boy, a brave-eyed, fair-haired child about three years old, and she was standing with us in the forge waiting with the child clinging to her skirt, when on a sudden she turned to Peter and began to thank him. A word and she broke down.
'Pooh, child!' Peter said kindly, patting her on the shoulder. 'It was little enough, and I am glad I did it. No thank's.'
She answered between her sobs that it was beyond thanks, and called on Heaven to reward him.