th great gains from play in my pocket, I was nigh to
put an end to the woes of this life. . . .

"But have no fear, Margery. A light heart soon will bring to the top
again what ruth, at this hour, is bearing to the deeps. Of what use is
waiting? Am I then the first Junker who has made love to a sweet maid of
low birth, only to forget her for a new lady love?

"Sooth to say, Margery, my confessor, to whom--albeit with bitter
pains--I am laying open every fold of my heart--yes, Margery, if Ann's
cradle had been graced with a coat of arms matters would be otherwise.
But to call a copper-smith father-in-law, and little Henneleinlein Madame
Aunt! In church, to nod from the old seats of the Schoppers to all those
common folk as my nearest kin, to meet the lute-player among my own
people, teaching the lads and maids their music, and to greet him as dear
grandfather, to see my brethren and sisters-in-law busy in the clerks'
chambers or work-shops--all this I say is bitter to the taste; and yet
more when the tempter on the other side shows the gaudy young gentleman
the very joys dearest to his courtly spirit. And with what eloquence and
good cheer has Father Ignatius set all this before mine eyes here in
Paris, doubtless with honest intent; and he spoke to my heart soberly and
to edification, setting forth all that the precepts of the Lord, and my
old and noble family required of me.

"Much less than all this would have overruled so feeble a wight as I am.
I promised Father Ignatius to give up Ann, and, on my home-coming, to
submit in all things to my uncle and to agree with him as to what each
should yield up and renounce to the other--as though it were a matter of
merchandise in spices from the Levant, or silk kerchiefs from Florence;
and thereupon the holy Friar gave me his benediction, as though my
salvation were henceforth sure in this world and the next.

"I rode forth with him even to the gate, firm in the belief that I had
thrown the winning number in life's game; but scarce had I turned my
horse homeward when I wist that I had cast from me all the peace and joy
of my soul.

"It is done. I have denied Ann--given her up forever--and whereas she
must one day hear it, be it done at once. You, my poor Margery, I make my
messenger. I have tried, in truth, to write to Ann, but it would not do.
One thing you must say, and that is that, even when I have sinned most
against her, I have never forgotten her; nay, that the memor