fellow."

"I weep not for myself, but for thee, who through the kindness of thy
heart hast been led into this trap. Believe me, it was not my
intention."

"Judging from thy voice, my girl, and if thou favorest thy mother, as I
think, whom I remember well, this is a trap that I shall make little
effort to get my foot out of. But thou art dripping, and I stand
chattering here. Once more I will arouse my father-in-law."

So saying, he stoutly rapped again with his stick upon the door.

Once more the window was pushed up, and again the angry head appeared.

"Get you gone!" cried the maddened blacksmith, but before he could say
anything further Trenchon cried out:

"It is thy daughter here who waits. Open the door, thou limb of hell,
or I will burst it in and cast thee out as thou hast done thy
daughter."

The blacksmith, who had never in his life been spoken to in tones or
words like these, was so amazed that he could neither speak nor act,
but one stout kick against the door so shook the fabric that he
speedily saw another such would break into his domicile; so, leaving
the window open that his curses might the better reach them, the
blacksmith came down and threw the barrier from the door, flinging it
open and standing on the threshold so as to bar all ingress.

"Out of the way," cried Trenchon, roughly placing his hand on the
other's breast with apparent lightness, but with a push that sent him
staggering into the room.

The young man pulled the girl in after him and closed the door.

"Thou knowest the way," he whispered. "Strike thou a light."

The trembling girl lit a candle, and as it shone upon her face Trenchon
gave a deep sigh of happiness and relief. No girl in the village could
be more fair.

The blacksmith stood, his fingers clenched with rage; but he looked
with hesitation and respect upon the burly form of the prizefighter.
Yet the old man did not flinch.

"Throw aside thy stick," he cried, "or wait until I can get me another."

Trenchon flung his stick into the corner.

"Oh! oh!" cried the girl, clasping her hands. "You must not fight." But
she appealed to her husband and not to her father, which caused a glow
of satisfaction to rise from the heart of the young man.

"Get thee out of this house," cried her father, fiercely, turning upon
her.

"Talk not thus to my wife," said Trenchon, advancing upon him.

"Thy wife?" cried the blacksmith, in amaze.

"My wife," repeated the young man wi