Indeed, that was why he had come there at all, who otherwise would have been far away, hewing a road to fame and fortune, or digging out a grave with his broadsword.

For here at least he could be near to Margaret, could touch her hand at morn and evening, could watch the light shine in her beauteous eyes, and sometimes, as she bent over him, feel her breath upon his hair.

And now his purgatory was at an end, and of a sudden the gates of joy were open.
But what if Margaret should prove the angel with the flaming sword who forbade him entrance to his paradise?
He trembled at the thought.

Well, if so, so it must be; he was not the man to force her fancy, or call her father to his aid.

He would do his best to win her, and if he failed, why then he would bless her, and let her go.
Peter could lie abed no longer, but rose and dressed himself, although the dawn was not fully come.