r, little Margery; and albeit the simple lad of old, who chose to
wife the daughter of a poor clerk, may have been dearer to you--as he was
to my own heart--yet love him still! Of his love you are ever sure;
remember him in your prayers; and as for that you have to say to Ann, say
it in such wise that she shall not take it over much to heart. Show her
how unworthy of her is this brother of yours, though in your secret soul
you shall know that my guardian saint never had, nor ever shall have, any
other face than hers.

"Now will I hasten to seal this letter and wake Eppelein that he may give
it to the post-rider. I am weary of tearing up many sheets of paper, but
if I were to read through in all soberness that I have written half
drunk, this letter would of a certainty go the way of many others written
by me to you, and to my beloved, faithful, only love, my lost Ann."

CHAPTER XIV.

Master Pernhart was wed on Tuesday after Palm Sunday. Ann was wont to
come to our house early on Wednesday morning, and this was ever a happy
meeting to which we gave the name of "the Italian spinning-hour," by
reason that one of us would turn her wheel and draw out the yarn, while
the other read aloud from the works of the great Italian poets.

Nor did Ann fail to come on this Wednesday after the wedding; but I had
thrust Herdegen's letter into the bosom of my bodice and awaited her with
a quaking heart.

Her spirit was heavy; I could see in her eyes that they had shed tears,
and at my first question they filled again. Had she not seen her mother
this morn beaming with happiness, and then remembered, with new pangs of
heartache, the father she had lost scarce a year ago and whose image
seemed to have faded out of the mind of the wife he had so truly loved.

When I said to her that I well understood her sorrow, but that I had
other matter to lay before her which might bring her yet more cruel
grief, she knew that it must be as touching Herdegen; and whereas before
I spoke I could only clasp her to me and could not bring out a single
word, she thrust me from her and cried: "Herdegen? Speak! Some ill has
come upon him! Margery--Merciful Virgin! How you are sobbing!--Dead--is
he dead?"

As she said these words her cheeks turned pale and, when I shook my head,
she seized my hand and asked sadly: "Worse? Then he has broken faith once
more?"

Meseemed I could never speak again; and yet I might not keep silence, and
the words broke f