the opportunity
to say, "Of course it is understood that matters are to go no further
between you and Walter Clifford. Oh, I don't mean that you're to make him
unhappy, or drive him to despair; only insist upon his being patient like
yourself. Everything comes sooner or later to those that can wait."

"Oh, papa," cried Mary, "you've said more to comfort me than Mrs. Easton
or anybody can; but I feel the change will do me good. I am, oh, so
grateful!"

So Mary wrote her letter, and went to Mrs. Easton next day. After the
usual embraces, she gave Mrs. Easton the letter, and was duly installed
in the state bedroom. She wrote to Julia Clifford to say where she was,
and that was her way of letting Walter Clifford know.

Walter himself arrived at Clifford Hall next day, worn, anxious, and
remorseful, and was shown at once to his father's bedside. The Colonel
gave him a wasted hand, and said:

"Dear boy, I thought you'd come. We've had our last quarrel, Walter."

Walter burst into tears over his father's hand, and nothing was said
between them about their temporary estrangement.

The first thing Walter did was to get two professional nurses from
Derby, and secure his father constant attention night and day, and, above
all, nourishment at all hours of the night when the patient would take
it. On the afternoon after his arrival the Colonel fell into a sound
sleep. Then Walter ordered his horse, and in less than an hour was at
Mrs. Gilbert's place.

CHAPTER XI.

THE KNOT CUT.--ANOTHER TIED.

The farm-house the Gilberts occupied had been a family mansion of great
antiquity with a moat around it. It was held during the civil war by a
stout royalist, who armed and garrisoned it after a fashion with his own
servants. This had a different effect to what he intended. It drew the
attention of one of Cromwell's generals, and he dispatched a party with
cannon and petards to reduce the place, whilst he marched on to join
Cromwell in enterprises of more importance. The detachment of Roundheads
summoned the place. The royalist, to show his respect for their
authority, made his kitchen wench squeak a defiance from an upper
window, from which she bolted with great rapidity as soon as she had
thus represented the valor of the establishment, and when next seen it
was in the cellar, wedged in between two barrels of beer. The men went
at it hammer and tongs, and in twenty-four hours a good many
cannon-balls traversed the buildin