eave a thief
to take care of my gold carcanet as leave thee alone with Belasez. I
shall come back to find the child gone off with some vile dog of a
Christian, and thee tearing thy garments, like a blind, blundering bat
as thou art."

"Bats don't tear their garments, wife."

"They run their heads upon every stone they come across. And so dost
thou."

"Wife, dost thou not think we might speak out honestly like true men,
and trust the All-Merciful with the child's future?"

"Well, if ever I did see a lame, wall-eyed, broken-kneed old pack-ass,
he was called Abraham the son of Ursel!"

And Licorice stood with uplifted hands, gazing on her lord and master in
an attitude of pitying astonishment.

"I do believe, thou moon-cast shadow of a man, if Bruno de Malpas were
to walk in and ask for her, thou wouldst just say, `Here she is, O my
Lord: do what thou wilt with thy slave.'"

"I think, Licorice, it would break my heart. But we have let him break
his for eighteen years. And if it came to breaking hers--What wicked
thing did he do, wife, that we should have used him thus?"

"What! canst thou ask me? Did he not presume to lay unclean hands on a
daughter of Israel, of whom saith the Holy One, `Ye shall not give her
unto the heathen'?"

"I do not think De Malpas was a heathen."

"Hast thou been to the creeping thing up yonder and begged to be
baptised to-morrow?"

This was a complimentary allusion to that Right Reverend person, the
Bishop of Norwich.

"Nay, Licorice, I am as true to the faith as thou."

"_Ay de mi_! I must have put on my gown wrong side out, to make thee
say so." And Licorice pretended to make a close examination of her
skirt, as if to discover whether this was the case.

"Licorice, is it not written, `Cursed be their wrath, for it was cruel?'
Thine was, wife."

"Whatever has come to thy conscience? It quietly went to sleep for
eighteen years; and now, all at once, it comes alive and awake!"

Abraham winced, as though he felt the taunt true.

"`Better late than never,' wife."

"That is a Christian saying."

"May be. It is true."

"Well!" And Licorice's hands were thrust out from her, as if she were
casting off drops of water. "I've done my best. I shall let it alone
now. Genta must be nursed: and I cannot bring infection home. And
after all, the girl is thine, not mine. Thou must take thine own way.
But I shall bid her good-bye for ever: for I have no hope of seeing her