“He asked me to sit up for him tonight,” she answered, “and he never did so before.  I was glad of it; for I have been uneasy for the boy, wondering what could take him out so often at night.”

“Oh, he’s going courting, you may depend upon it,” laughed the farmer in his hearty way; “and courting some young lass not of our village, but one who lives a pretty step from here, I’ll be bound.  I’ve held my peace, and let the boy go his own way.  He’ll speak out when the time comes, depend upon it.”

“I believe he will speak out this very night,” answered the mother.  “He told me he had a surprise in store for me, and begged that I would sit up till his return, and stand his friend with you, if you should be displeased at his choice.  One might have thought he was bringing his bride home with him, to hear him talk; but he would never get wedded without speaking first.  He is a good lad and a dutiful, and his parents have the right to be told.”

The farmer’s curiosity was piqued by what he heard, and he resolved to share his wife’s vigil.  Jack, their only son, was very dear to them, and they were proud of him in their own hearts, and thought such a son had never lived before.  Both were anxiously looking forward to the day when he should bring home a wife to brighten up the old home, since it had lost the sweet presence of the daughter Joan; and they neither of them believed that Jack’s choice would fall upon anyone unworthy of him.

The farmer dozed in his chair by the glowing hearth.  The woman got a large book from some secret receptacle upstairs, and read with deep attention, though with cautious glance around her from time to time, as if half afraid of what she was doing.  It was long before the silence outside was broken by any sound of approaching footfalls; and when the ring of a horse hoof upon the frosty ground became distinctly audible through the silence of the night, the farmer would not unbar the door until his wife had glided away with the volume she had been reading.

A minute later and the parents both stood in the doorway, peering out into the cloudy night, that was not altogether dark.

“By holy St. Anthony, there are two horses and three riders,” said the farmer, shading his eyes from the glare of the lantern as he peered out into the darkness beyond.

“Jack, is that you, my son?  And who are these that you have brought with you?”

“Friends—­friends claiming the shelter and protection of your roof, father,” answered Jack’s hearty voice as he rode up to the door; and then it was seen that he was greatly encumbered by some burden he supported before him on his horse.  But from the other lighter palfrey there leaped down a small and graceful creature of fairy-like proportions, and Mistress Devenish found herself suddenly confronted by the sweetest, fairest face she had ever seen in her life, whilst a pair of soft arms stole caressingly about her neck.