ng her back
to life. None that be so good and kind as ye are would do her
that cruel hurt. For look you--what is left to live for? Her
brothers are gone, her father is gone, her mother goeth, the
Church's curse is upon her, and none may shelter or befriend her
even though she lay perishing in the road. She is desolate. I have
not asked you, good heart, if her sister be still on live, here
overhead; I had no need; ye had gone back, else, and not left
the poor thing forsaken--"

"She lieth at peace," interrupted the king, in a subdued voice.

"I would not change it. How rich is this day in happiness! Ah,
my Annis, thou shalt join thy sister soon--thou'rt on thy way,
and these be merciful friends that will not hinder."

And so she fell to murmuring and cooing over the girl again, and
softly stroking her face and hair, and kissing her and calling her
by endearing names; but there was scarcely sign of response now
in the glazing eyes. I saw tears well from the king's eyes, and
trickle down his face. The woman noticed them, too, and said:

"Ah, I know that sign: thou'st a wife at home, poor soul, and
you and she have gone hungry to bed, many's the time, that the
little ones might have your crust; you know what poverty is, and
the daily insults of your betters, and the heavy hand of the Church
and the king."

The king winced under this accidental home-shot, but kept still;
he was learning his part; and he was playing it well, too, for
a pretty dull beginner. I struck up a diversion. I offered the
woman food and liquor, but she refused both. She would allow
nothing to come between her and the release of death. Then I slipped
away and brought the dead child from aloft, and laid it by her.
This broke her down again, and there was another scene that was
full of heartbreak. By and by I made another diversion, and beguiled
her to sketch her story.

"Ye know it well yourselves, having suffered it--for truly none
of our condition in Britain escape it. It is the old, weary tale.
We fought and struggled and succeeded; meaning by success, that
we lived and did not die; more than that is not to be claimed. No
troubles came that we could not outlive, till this year brought
them; then came they all at once, as one might say, and overwhelmed
us. Years ago the lord of the manor planted certain fruit trees on
our farm; in the best part of it, too--a grievous wrong and shame--"

"But it was his right," interrupted the