“I’ faith, Cuthbert, I will gladly tell thee all there is to know, it is not much; and I like thee well, and trust thee to boot.  Nor is it such a mighty secret that Culverhouse would fain make me his bride, and that I would give myself to him tomorrow an I might.  I am not ashamed of loving him,” cried the girl, her dark eyes flashing as she threw hack her dainty head with a gesture of pride and womanly dignity, “for he is a right noble gentleman, and worthy of any maiden’s love; but whether we shall ever be united in wedlock—­ah, that is a vastly different matter!” and she heaved a quick little sigh.

“But wherefore not?” asked Cuthbert quickly.  “Where could he find a more beauteous or worthy wife?”

Kate gave him a little bow of acknowledgment for his compliment, but her face was slightly more grave as she made answer: 

“It is not, alack! a question of dislike to me.  Were that all, I might hope to win the favour of stern hearts, and bring the matter to a happy conclusion.  But no; mine uncle of Andover likes me well.  He openly says as much, and he has been a kind friend to us.  And yet I may not wed his son; and his kindness makes it the harder for Culverhouse to do aught to vex or defy him.”

“But why may you not?” asked Cuthbert quickly.

“There be more reasons than one, but I will tell you all in brief.  My own father mislikes the thought of the match, for that we are cousins of the first degree; and though we Trevlyns of the older branch no longer call ourselves the servants and followers of Rome, yet old traditions linger long in the blood, and my father has always set his face against a marriage betwixt cousins nearest akin.”

Cuthbert looked thoughtful.  That certainly was a difficulty hard to be got over.  He made no comment, but merely asked: 

“And my Lord of Andover—­is that the objection with him?”

“Not near so much.  He would easily overlook that.  There are no such strict rules with Protestants, and his family have been for many generations of the Reformed faith.  But there is just as weighty an argument on his side—­namely, that my father can give me but a scanty dower, and it is a very needful thing for Culverhouse to wed with one who will fill his coffers with broad gold pieces.  The Trevlyns, as thou doubtless knowest, have been sorely impoverished ever since the loss of the treasure.  My father can give no rich dower with his daughters; wherefore they be no match for the nobles of the land.  Oh, why was that treasure lost?  Why could no man be wise enough to trace and find it, when sure there must have been many in the secret?  Now that a generation has gone by, what hope is there left?  But for that loss my Lord of Andover would have welcomed me gladly.  The lost treasure of Trevlyn has much to answer for.”

Kate spoke half laughingly, half impatiently, and tapped the rush-strewn floor with the point of her shoe.  Into Cuthbert’s eyes a sudden light had sprung, and leaning forward in the firelight, he laid his hand upon his cousin’s.