father almost thrust her champion, Henry Smith, into her apartment;
the bashful lover hanging back at first, as if afraid to give
offence, and, on observing her posture, from respect to her devotion.

"Father," said the armourer, "she prays; I dare no more speak to
her than to a bishop when he says mass."

"Now, go thy ways, for a right valiant and courageous blockhead,"
said her father--and then speaking to his daughter, he added,
"Heaven is best thanked, my daughter, by gratitude shown to our
fellow creatures. Here comes the instrument by whom God has rescued
thee from death, or perhaps from dishonour worse than death. Receive
him, Catharine, as thy true Valentine, and him whom I desire to
see my affectionate son."

"Not thus--father," replied Catharine. "I can see--can speak
to no one now. I am not ungrateful--perhaps I am too thankful to
the instrument of our safety; but let me thank the guardian saint
who sent me this timely relief, and give me but a moment to don my
kirtle."

"Nay, God-a-mercy, wench, it were hard to deny thee time to busk thy
body clothes, since the request is the only words like a woman that
thou hast uttered for these ten days. Truly, son Harry, I would my
daughter would put off being entirely a saint till the time comes
for her being canonised for St. Catherine the Second."

"Nay, jest not, father; for I will swear she has at least one
sincere adorer already, who hath devoted himself to her pleasure,
so far as sinful man may. Fare thee well, then, for the moment,