to him.  Petronella knew that he was bound thither; she would not reckon on seeing him again.  And there was Cherry at the other end.  The thought of seeing her again that very day drew him onwards like a magnet.  During these long weeks of search and hard toil, the thought of Cherry had been the best sweetener of his labour.  He had talked of her with his sister, he had dreamed of her when he lay down to sleep at night, and now he was on his way to see her, to tell her all the tale, and ask her at her father’s hand.  The thought was sweet to intoxication, and his eager anticipation seemed to put wings to his feet.

How different were his feelings as he drew near to the great city this second time!  It was just about a year since he had entered it for the first time, a stranger, homeless, well-nigh penniless, and very uncertain of the reception he should receive from his kinsfolk on the bridge.  Now he stepped towards the region of shining lights with all confidence and joy.  He was rich past his wildest hopes, for the treasure had proved to be far greater than even his fondest dreams had credited; and he knew that when division was made, it would be no niggard portion that would fall to the share of the finder.  He had won for himself such goodwill from his kinsfolk as would stand him in good stead in days to come.  He had enlarged his scholarship, made for himself a number of friends of all degrees, and, above all, had won the love of his cousin Cherry, and a position which would enable him speedily to ask her at her father’s hands.  He would fulfil his boyish promise made last Yuletide, when he vowed her that the day should come when she should no longer pine for the innocent gaieties and luxuries of wealth, but should herself be a lady of some degree, and should have her house and her horses and servants, and a bright and happy future with the husband of her choice.

Now he had set foot upon the bridge, and was eagerly traversing the familiar roadway, as the short daylight faded and the lights from the houses shone out brighter and brighter in the gloom.  His uncle’s house was almost in sight.  His heart was beating high with anticipation and delight, when a hand was laid suddenly upon his shoulder, and he turned to find himself face to face with Anthony Cole.

He was about to exclaim in words of pleasure and welcome, when his attention was arrested by the strange expression upon the thin, eager face—­an expression so strange that it checked the commonplace words of greeting that sprang naturally to Cuthbert’s lips, and he waited in silence for what Anthony should say.

“Thou hast come! it is well,” said the latter, in tones that were little above a whisper.  “Methought that thou wouldst not be absent at such a time.  Well doth it behove every true son of the Church to rally round her at such a moment.  I felt assured that thou wouldst be here.  Others beside me have been watching for thee.  It is well.  Keep thine own counsel; be wary, be discreet.  And now go.  It boots not that we be seen talking together thus.  When thou hast fitting opportunity, come secretly to my house; thou wilt be welcome there.”