r attention, She fell into a deep reverie
while looking at the little manse.

She was startled from it by Reicht's hand upon her shoulder, and a faint
voice saying, "Let us go home."

"You got no answer at all, Reicht," said Margaret calmly.

"No, Margaret," said Reicht despondently. And they returned home.

Perhaps after all Margaret had nourished some faint secret hope in her
heart, though her reason had rejected it, for she certainly went home
more dejectedly.

Just as they entered Rotterdam, Reicht said, "Stay! Oh, Margaret, I am
ill at deceit; but 'tis death to utter ill news to thee; I love thee so
dear."

"Speak out, sweetheart," said Margaret. "I have gone through so much, I
am almost past feeling any fresh trouble."

"Margaret, the hermit did speak to me."

"What, a hermit there? among all those birds."

"Ay; and doth not that show him a holy man?"

"I' God's name, what said he to thee, Reicht?"

"Alas! Margaret, I told him thy story, and I prayed him for our Lady's
sake tell me where thy Gerard is, And I waited long for an answer, and
presently a voice came like a trumpet: 'Pray for the soul of Gerard the
son of Eli!"

"Ah!"

"Oh, woe is me that I have this to tell thee, sweet Margaret! bethink
thee thou hast thy boy to live for yet."

"Let me get home," said Margaret faintly.

Passing down the Brede Kirk Straet they saw Joan at the door. Reicht
said to her, "Eh, woman, she has been to your hermit, and heard no good
news."

"Come in," said Joan, eager for a gossip.

Margaret would not go in; but she sat down disconsolate on the lowest
step but one of the little external staircase that led into Joan's
house, and let the other two gossip their fill at the top of it.

"Oh," said Joan, "what yon hermit says is sure to be sooth, He is that
holy, I am told, that the very birds consort with him."

"What does that prove?" said Margaret deprecatingly. "I have seen my
Gerard tame the birds in winter till they would eat from his hand."

A look of pity at this parallel passed between the other two, but they
were both too fond of her to say what they thought.

Joan proceeded to relate all the marvellous tales she had heard of this
hermit's sanctity; how he never came out but at night, and prayed among
the wolves, and they never molested him; and now he bade the people not
bring him so much food to pamper his body, but to bring him candles.

"The candles are to burn before his saint," whispered R