“Belike I shall claim your good offices yet, Master Letter Carrier,” answered Kate, with a laugh and a blush; “and I trow my cousin will like you none the less for being bearer of my epistle.  But I am not to commend you to his good graces, as once I meant.  It is to your relatives you are first to look for help.  It is like rubbing the bloom off a ripe peach—­all the romance is gone in a moment!  I had hoped that a career of adventure and glory lay before you, and behold the goal is a home beneath a wool stapler’s roof!”

But there Kate caught herself up and blushed, bethinking what her parents would say could they hear her words.

But Cuthbert did not read the underlying scorn in merry Kate’s tones.  He was a very simple-minded youth, and his life and training had not been such as to teach him much about the various grades in the world, or how greatly these grades differed one from the other.  He was looking at his cousin’s bright face with thoughtful, questioning eyes, so much so that the girl asked him of what he was thinking.

“Marry of thee, Mistress Kate,” he answered; for though encouraged to speak on terms of equality with his kinsfolk, he found some difficulty in remembering to do so, and they certainly appeared to him in the light of beings from another and a higher sphere than his own.  “I was longing to ask of thee a question.”

“Ask on, good Master Cuthbert,” was the ready reply; “I will answer to the best of my humble ability.”

“I have heard of this Lord Culverhouse from many beneath this roof since I have been here.  I would fain know who he is.”

“That is easy told.  He is the eldest son of mine uncle, my mother’s brother, the fourth Earl of Andover.  His eldest son bears the title of Viscount Culverhouse, and he is, of course, our cousin.  When we were in London we saw much of these relatives of ours, and were grieved to part from them when we left.  Now, is it understood?”

“Yes, verily.  And tell me this one thing more, fair cousin, if it be not a malapert question.  Is it not true that thou art to wed with this Lord Culverhouse one day?”

Kate’s face was dyed by a most becoming blush.  Her eyes sparkled in a charming fashion.  Her expression, half arch, half grave, was bewitching to see, but she laid her fingers on her lips as she whispered: 

“Hush, hush! who told thee that, good Cuthbert?  Methinks thou hast over-sharp eyes and ears.”

“I prithee pardon me if I have seen and heard too much,” answered Cuthbert; “but I had a fancy—­”

He stopped, stammering, blushing, and Kate took pity on his confusion.

“I am not vexed,” she said, smiling; “and in very sooth thou hast divined what is in part the truth.  But we do not dare talk of it yet.  There be so many weighty matters against us.”

Cuthbert looked keenly interested.  He was very fond of this sprightly cousin of his, who was so amusing, so kindly, and so sisterly in her ways.  She had more ease of manner, as well as brightness of temperament, than her sisters, and her company had been a source of great pleasure to him.  The girl saw the look of sympathetic curiosity upon his face, and she drew her chair a little nearer to that which he occupied, stirring up the logs upon the glowing hearth into a brighter blaze.