rry, poor hunted rabbit. Never fear, my girl--Chloris has yet to turn
distress from her door. How do I know these things? Why, that is easily
answered, since all night long in sleep your tongue went over this and
that--such a babble as was never heard. The tongue by day may lie, but
the tongue by night speaks truth. My women who waited on you did piece
its fragments, and came with the whole and told me. Now I have this to
say: Stay in this house, and you shall be safer than in your father's.
When search is made for you, be sure the searchers will come hither, and
that is the best thing that could be. You will not be the first girl who
has sought shelter with Chloris. And I dare take the risk of keeping
you, because I am so very sure that you will not be found. If the house
be searched, no one of your description would be found herein--and you
yourself might tell the stationarii so without fear. Stay with me, and
you shall have food and shelter and protection from the law."
"And I--what wouldst have of me in return?" asked Eldris slowly.
"Naught but what you would give willingly," said Chloris. "Mark you
this, girl: Chloris forces no man nor woman to do her bidding. If one
wishes to enter here, she may enter; if one wishes to leave, she may
leave. I can but repeat what I have said. Come to me and you shall be
safe--I'll lay my life on that. If you will not, well, go your way; you
shall not be betrayed by me or mine."
"If you would but let me be servant to you!" Eldris begged. "I am
friendless and weary, and I dread to face the world again, for there is
no rest nor safety for me at all. I would work in scullery or in
kitchen, and serve you loyally and gladly; more than this I will not do.
Once I fled to escape shame; shall I then seek that from which I fled?"
"So be it, then," said Chloris. "I shall not compel you, for that is not
the way of Chloris. You have told so much while no sense was in you that
you might now straighten out the tale. I see your doubts; you do not
know me, yet you have your opinion. That is right, child; better for
one's own peace of mind to trust too little than too much. But you need
fear nothing. I, too, was friendless once, and weary once, and found no
rest nor safety. That was long and long ago; but sometimes I think of
it, even these days. So, if you will, tell your tale; and if you will
not, keep it. But remember, I have said that your secret shall not be
betrayed by me or mine. Many th
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