ation. At Gouda she
I love as no priest or monk must love any but the angels, she will tempt
a weak soul, unwilling, yet not loth to be tempted."

"Ay, that is another matter; I should tempt thee then? to what, i' God's
name?"

"Who knows? The flesh is weak."

"Speak for yourself, my lad. Why, you are thinking of some other
Margaret, not Margaret a Peter. Was ever my mind turned to folly and
frailty? Stay, is it because you were my husband once, as these lines
avouch? Think you the road to folly is beaten for you more than another?
Oh! how shallow are the wise, and how little able are you to read me,
who can read you so well from top to toe, Come, learn thine A B C. Were
a stranger to proffer me unchaste love, I should shrink a bit, no doubt,
and feel sore, but I should defend myself without making a coil; for
men, I know, are so, the best of them sometimes. But if you, that have
been my husband, and are my child's father, were to offer to humble me
so in mine own eyes, and thine, and his, either I should spit in thy
face, Gerard, or, as I am not a downright vulgar woman, I should snatch
the first weapon at hand and strike thee dead."

And Margaret's eyes flashed fire, and her nostrils expanded, that it was
glorious to see; and no one that did see her could doubt her sincerity.

"I had not the sense to see that," said Gerard quietly. And he pondered.

Margaret eyed him in silence, and soon recovered her composure.

"Let not you and I dispute," said she gently; "speak we of other things.
Ask me of thy folk."

"My father?"

"Well, and warms to thee and me. Poor soul, a drew glaive on those twain
that day, but Jorian Ketel and I we mastered him, and he drove them
forth his house for ever."

"That may not be; he must take them back."

"That he will never do for us. You know the man; he is dour as iron; yet
would he do it for one word from one that will not speak it."

"Who?"

"The vicar of Gouda, The old man will be at the manse to-morrow, I
hear."

"How you come back to that."

"Forgive me: I am but a woman. It is us for nagging; shouldst keep me
from it wi' questioning of me."

"My sister Kate?"

"Alas!"

"What, hath ill befallen e'en that sweet lily? Out and alas!"

"Be calm, sweetheart, no harm hath her befallen. Oh, nay, nay, far fro'
that." Then Margaret forced herself to be composed, and in a low, sweet,
gentle voice she murmured to him thus:

"My poor Gerard, Kate hath left her trouble beh