Rotha's ardor of soul had conquered her father's apprehension of failure.
"It's only for a fortnight at most, that's all," added Sim.
"No more than that.

If Ralph is not found in a fortnight, make your way home." "But he shall be found, God helping me, he shall," said Sim.
"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.