"Kate," he said, in a low voice, "I have said naught of it
before--I feared it would sound but an idle boast, an idle dream;
but I am pledged to the search after the lost treasure. If it yet
lies hid, as men say it does, Cuthbert Trevlyn will find it."

Kate gazed at him with wide-open eyes; but there was no trace of
mockery in them, rather an eager delight and excitement that was in
itself encouragement and stimulus.

"Cuthbert, what meanest thou?"

"Verily no more and no less than I say. Listen, Kate. I too am a
like sufferer with others of the race of Trevlyn. I have nor
wealth, nor hope, nor future, save what I may carve out for myself;
and my heritage, as well as yours, lies buried somewhere in these
great woods, no man may say where. It came upon me as I sat in pain
and darkness, the last hour I passed beneath my father's roof, that
this might be the work given to me to do--to restore to the house
of Trevlyn the treasure whose loss has been so sore a blow. I said
as much to my sister when we bid each other adieu in the moonlit
chantry; and she bid me, ere I started on the quest, come hither to
you and ask the story of that loss. We know but little ourselves;
our father tells us naught, and it is but a word here and a word
there we have gathered. But you know--"

"We know well. We have been told the story by our mother from the
days of our childhood. I trow we know all there is to know. Why
hast thou not asked before, Cuthbert?"

The lad blushed a little at the question.