eard him
whisper:

"My cherry-tree's in flower."

She whispered, "Yes."

And they kissed each other.

Then the tumult of laughter passed all bounds, so that it was a wonder
if it was not heard at Combe Ivy; and the guests clashed their
trenchers one against another, and whirled their torches till the
sparks flew, yelling, "The bride's kiss! Ha, ha! the bride's kiss!"

But the Rough Master of Coates had had enough; snarling like a mad dog
he thrust his way through the crowd on one side, as Old Gerard, seeing
his purpose, thrust through on the other, and both at the same instant
fell on the boy, the one with his scabbard, the other with his staff.

"Kisses, will ye?" cried the Rough Master of Coates, "here's kisses for
ye!"

"Ha, ha!" cried the guests, "more kisses, more kisses for him that
kissed the bride!"

And then they all struck him at once, kicking and beating him without
mercy, till he lay prone on the earth. When he had fallen, the Rough
shouted, "Away to the Wildbrooks, away!"

And he seized Thea in his arms, and rushed along the brow of the hill,
and all the company followed in a confusion, and were swallowed up in
the night.

But Young Gerard raised himself a little, and groaned, "The
Wildbrooks--are they going to the Wildbrooks?"

"Ay, and over the Wildbrooks," said Old Gerard.

"But they're in flood," gasped Young Gerard. "They'll never cross it in
the spring floods."

"They'll manage it somehow. The Rough--did you see his eyes when you--?
ho, ho! he'll cross it somehow."

"He can't," the boy muttered. "The April tide's too strong. He will
drown in the flood."

"And she," said Old Gerard.

"Perhaps she will swim on the flood," said Young Gerard faintly. And he
sighed and sank back on the earth.

"Ay, you'll be sore," chuckled the old man. "You had your salve before
you had your drubbing. Lie there. I must be gone on business."

He took up his staff and went down the hill for the last time to Combe
Ivy, to purchase his freedom.

But Young Gerard lay with his face pressed to the turf. "And that was
the bridegroom," he said, and shook where he lay.

"Young shepherd," said a voice beside him. He looked up and saw the
hooded crone, come out of the hut. "Why do you water the earth?" said
she. "Have not the rains done their work?"

"What work, dame?"

"You've as fine a cherry in flower," said she, "as ever blossomed in
Gay Street in the season of singing and dancing."

"Singing and