So this mornin' she could hold no longer, an' would hev no nay but I must come an' see; an' so I've rode twenty mile upo' Blackbird, as thinks all the while he's a-ploughin', an' turns sharp roun', every thirty yards, as if he was at the end of a furrow.

I've hed a sore time wi' him, I can tell you, sir.' 'God bless you, Knott, for coming!' said Mr.Gilfil, wringing the old coachman's hand again.

'Now go down and have something and rest yourself.
You will stay here to-night, and by-and-by I shall come to you to learn the nearest way to your house.

I shall get ready to ride there immediately, when I have spoken to Sir Christopher.' In an hour from that time Mr.Gilfil was galloping on a stout mare towards the little muddy village of Callam, five miles beyond Sloppeter.
Once more he saw some gladness in the afternoon sunlight; once more it was a pleasure to see the hedgerow trees flying past him, and to be conscious of a 'good seat' while his black Kitty bounded beneath him, and the air whistled to the rhythm of her pace.

Caterina was not dead; he had found her; his love and tenderness and long-suffering seemed so strong, they must recall her to life and happiness.
After that week of despair, the rebound was so violent that it carried his hopes at once as far as the utmost mark they had ever reached.
Caterina would come to love him at last; she would be his.