ught to do with them--that it
was pure pride and folly; and I bid you home with my whole heart and
soul, and beseech your forgiveness for all the sorrow we have brought
upon each other, and I will have and keep you henceforth, and nought else
here on earth! Ah, and Gertrude, poor maid! She would have been heartily,
entirely welcome to me as at this day, were it not that there is another
maiden who is dearest to my heart of all the damsels on earth!"

Then was there heartfelt embracing and kissing on both parts, and, as I
saw her weep, I made an unspoken vow that if the eyes of this mother and
her son should ever shed tears again I would be the last to cause them,
and that I would ever be ready and at hand to dry them carefully away.

I mind me likewise that I then beheld fair Waldtrud, the forester's
daughter, inasmuch as she full heartily wished me joy; yet I remember
even better that I felt no pang of jealousy, and indeed scarce looked at
the wench, by reason that there were many other matters of which the
sight gave me far greater joy.

It was a delightful and never-to-be-forgotten hour, albeit over-short; by
my uncle's desire we ere long made ready to go homewards. Now when Gotz
was carrying his mother from the hot chamber to the sleigh, and I was
left looking about me for certain kerchiefs of my aunt's, I perceived,
squatted behind the great green-tiled stove, Young Kubbeling in a heap,
and with his face hidden in his hands. He moved not till I spoke to him;
then he dried his wet eyes with his fur hood, and when I laid my hand on
his shoulder he drew a deep breath, and said:

"It has been a moving morning, Mistress Margery. But it will all come
right. It has come upon me as a sharp blow to be sure; and I have no
longer any business here in the forest, all the more so by reason that I
have children and grandchildren at home who have looked over-long for the
old man's home-coming. I will set forth to-morrow early. To tell the
truth to none but you, I cannot endure to be away from the old place a
longer space than it takes to go to Alexandria and back. My old heart is
grown over-soft and weary for an absence of two journeys. And yet another
matter for your ear alone: You will be the wife of a noblehearted man,
but mind you, he has long been free to wander whithersoever he would.
Take it to heart that you make his home dear and happy, else it will be
with you as it is with my old woman, who hath never mastered that m