"He _will_ help you, father," said Rotha, her eyes glistening with
tears.

"When should I start away?"

"To-morrow, at daybreak; that's as I could wish you," said Rotha.

"To-morrow--Sunday? Let it be to-night. It will rain to-morrow, for it
rained on Friday. Let it be to-night, Rotha."

"To-night, then," said the girl, yielding to her father's
superstitious fears. Thrusting her hand deep into a pocket, she added,
"I have some money, not much, but it will find you lodgings for a
fortnight."

"Never mind the money, girl," said Sim; "give me the horse-wallet on
my back, with a bit of barley bread--and that will do."

"You must take the money as well. These are cold, hard nights. Promise
me you'll lodge at the inns on the road; remember to keep yourself
strong, for it's your only chance of finding Ralph--promise me!"

"I give you my word, Rotha."

"And now promise to say nothing of this to Willy," said Rotha.

Sim did not reply, but a quick glance expressed more than words of the
certainty of secrecy in that regard.

"When you've crossed the Raise, follow on to Kendal," said Rotha, "and