"Well, Dame, if I were in your place, I'd just send him a line, and bid him stay away till the storm blows over."
"You are right. But who is to carry it? My own servants are traitors to me."
"I'll carry it myself."
"You shall. Put on your hat, and run through the wood; that is the shortest way."
She wrote a few lines on a large sheet of paper, for note-paper there was none in those days; sealed it, and gave it to Ryder.
Ryder retired to put on her hat, and pry into the letter with greedy eyes.
It ran thus:—
"Dear Father and Friend,—You must come hither no more at present. Ask the bearer why this is, for I am ashamed to put it on paper. Pray for them: for you can, but I cannot. Pray for me, too, bereft for a time of your counsels. I shall come and confess to you in a few days, when we are all cooler; but you shall honor his house no more. Obey me in this one thing, who shall obey you in all things else, and am
"Your indignant and sorrowful daughter,
"Catharine Gaunt."