“Kate,” he said, in a low voice, “I have said naught of it before—­I feared it would sound but an idle boast, an idle dream; but I am pledged to the search after the lost treasure.  If it yet lies hid, as men say it does, Cuthbert Trevlyn will find it.”

Kate gazed at him with wide-open eyes; but there was no trace of mockery in them, rather an eager delight and excitement that was in itself encouragement and stimulus.

“Cuthbert, what meanest thou?”

“Verily no more and no less than I say.  Listen, Kate.  I too am a like sufferer with others of the race of Trevlyn.  I have nor wealth, nor hope, nor future, save what I may carve out for myself; and my heritage, as well as yours, lies buried somewhere in these great woods, no man may say where.  It came upon me as I sat in pain and darkness, the last hour I passed beneath my father’s roof, that this might be the work given to me to do—­to restore to the house of Trevlyn the treasure whose loss has been so sore a blow.  I said as much to my sister when we bid each other adieu in the moonlit chantry; and she bid me, ere I started on the quest, come hither to you and ask the story of that loss.  We know but little ourselves; our father tells us naught, and it is but a word here and a word there we have gathered.  But you know—­”

“We know well.  We have been told the story by our mother from the days of our childhood.  I trow we know all there is to know.  Why hast thou not asked before, Cuthbert?”

The lad blushed a little at the question.

“Methought it would sound but folly in your ears,” he said.  “It was easier to speak to Petronella in the dark chantry.  Kate, wilt thou tell me all thou knowest of this lost treasure?  How and wherefore was it lost, and why has no man since been able to find it?”

“Ay, wherefore? that is what we all ask,” answered Kate, with eyes that flashed and glowed.  “When we were children and stayed once a few months here, we spent days together scouring the woods and digging after it.  We were sure we should succeed where others had failed; but the forest yet keeps its secret, and the treasure has never seen the light.  Again and yet again have I said to Philip that were I a man I would never rest till it was found.  But he shakes his wise head and says that our grandfather and father and many another have wasted time and expended large sums of money on the work of discovery, and without success.  All of our name begin to give credence to the story that the concealed treasure was found and spirited away by the gipsy folks, who hated our house, and that it has long since been carried beyond the seas and melted into coin there.  Father and Philip alike believe that the Trevlyns will see it again no more.”

“Dost thou believe that, too?”

“Nay, not I. I believe it will yet come back to us, albeit not without due search and travail and labour.  O Cuthbert, thy words rejoice me.  Would I were a man, to fare forth with thee on the quest!  What wilt thou do?  How wilt thou begin?  And how canst thou search for the lost treasure an thou goest to thine uncle’s house in London?”