Kate Trevlyn was a veritable sprite for her love of the open air, by night as well as day, in winter cold as well as summer heat.  “The night bird” was one of her father’s playful names for her, and if ever she was able to slip away on a fine night, nothing delighted her more than to wander about in the park and the woods, listening to the cries of the owls and night jars, watching the erratic flight of the bats, and admiring the grand beauty of the sleeping world as it lay beneath the rays of the peaceful moon.

As the reading ceased, a step on the terrace without told Kate that Philip was out for an evening stroll.  Gliding from the room with her swift undulating motion, and quickly donning cloak and clogs, she slipped after him and joined him before he had got many yards from the house.

“Take me with thee, Philip,” she said.  “It is a lovely night for a stroll.  I should love to visit the chantry; it looks most witching at this hour of the night.”

They took the path that led thither.  The great clock in the tower had boomed the hour of eight some time since.  The moon had shaken itself free from the veil of cloud, and was sailing majestically in the sky.  As they descended the path, Kate suddenly laid her hand on her brother’s arm, and whispered: 

“Hist!  Methinks I hear the sound of steps.  Surely there is some one approaching us from below!”

Philip paused and listened.  Yes, Kate’s quick ears had not deceived her.  There was the sound of a footstep advancing towards them along the lonely tangled path.  Philip instinctively felt for the pistol he always carried in his belt, for there were often doubtful and sometimes desperate men in hiding in woods and lonely places; but before he had time to do more than feel if the weapon were safe, Kate had darted suddenly from his side, and was speeding down the path.

“Marry but it is Cuthbert!” she called back to him as he bid her stop, and Philip himself started forward to meet and greet the newcomer.

“We have been talking of you and wondering how it fared with you,” he said, as they reached the side of the youth “I am right glad to see you here tonight.”

Cuthbert did not answer for a moment.  He seemed to pant for breath.  A ray of moonlight striking down upon his face showed it to be deadly white.  His attitude bespoke the extreme of fatigue and weakness.

“Why, there is something amiss with you!” cried Philip, taking his cousin by the arm.  “Some evil hap has befallen you.”

“His father has half killed him, I trow!” cried Kate, with sudden energy.  “He could not else have received injury in these few hours.  Speak, Cuthbert; tell us! is it not so?”

“I have been something rough handled,” answered the lad in a low voice; “but I did not feel it greatly till I began to climb the hill.

“I thank you, good Philip.  I will be glad of your arm.  But I am better already.”