KATHARINE.
Really? Yes, thank heaven! Now I see the stag's horns on the roof-tree outlined against the evening sky.
ROBERT.
Here is the letter. But you must not carry it so openly in your hand.
Have you thought of some pretext, in case the old man should meet you?
KATHARINE (bashful, and smiling with self-satisfaction).
Oh, Mr. Robert, do you suppose a girl is so stupid? Don't worry about that. My little sisters take knitting and sewing lessons from the young lady—so—
ROBERT (folds the letter, which he was reading).
Here it is, Katharine. But give that letter only into Mary's or her mother's hands; to no one else, neither to Andrew nor William. Only into her own or her mother's hands.
KATHARINE.
But must I go all alone so far?