Eli, softened by many touches in the letter, and by the reader's womanly graces, said kindly enough, "Take thy time, lass.And methinks some of ye might find her a creepie to rest her foot, and she so near her own trouble.""I'd do more for her than that an I durst," said Catherine."Here, Cornelis," and she held out her little wooden stool, and that worthy, who hated Margaret worse than ever, had to take the creepie and put it carefully under her foot.
"You are very kind, dame," she faltered."I will read on; 'tis all I can do for you in turn.
"Thus seeing my master ashy and sore shaken, I deemed this horrible tragic act came timeously to warn him, so I strove sore to turn him from his ill ways, discoursing of sinners and their lethal end.'Too late!' said he, 'too late!' and gnashed his teeth.Then I told him 'too late' was the divell's favourite whisper in repentant ears.Said I -'The Lord is debonair, Let sinners nought despair.'
'Too late!' said he, and gnashed his teeth, and writhed his face, as though vipers were biting his inward parts.But, dear heart, his was a mind like running water.Ere we cleared the town he was carolling, and outside the gate hung the other culprit, from the bough of a little tree, and scarce a yard above the ground.And that stayed my vagabone's music.But ere we had gone another furlong, he feigned to have dropped his, rosary, and ran back, with no good intent, as you shall hear.I strolled on very slowly, and often halting, and presently he came stumping up on one leg, and that bandaged.I asked him how he could contrive that, for 'twas masterly done.'Oh, that was his mystery.Would I know that, I must join the brotherhood.' And presently we did pass a narrow lane, and at the mouth on't espied a written stone, telling beggars by a word like a wee pitchfork to go that way.''Tis yon farmhouse,' said he: 'bide thou at hand.' And he went to the house, and came back with money, food, and wine.'This lad did the business,' said he, slapping his one leg proudly.Then he undid the bandage, and with prideful face showed me a hole in his calf you could have put your neef in.Had I been strange to his tricks, here was a leg had drawn my last penny.Presently another farmhouse by the road.He made for it.I stood, and asked myself, should I run away and leave him, not to be shamed in my own despite by him? But while I doubted, there was a great noise, and my master well cudgelled by the farmer and his men, came towards me hobbling and holloaing, for the peasants had laid on heartily.
But more trouble was at his heels.Some mischievous wight loosed a dog as big as a jackass colt, and came roaring after him, and downed him momently.I, deeming the poor rogue's death certain, and him least fit to die, drew my sword and ran shouting.But ere I could come near, the muckle dog had torn away his bad leg, and ran growling to his lair with it; and Cul de Jatte slipped his knot, and came running like a lapwing, with his hair on end, and so striking with both crutches before and behind at unreal dogs as 'twas like a windmill crazed.He fled adown the road.I followed leisurely, and found him at dinner.'Curse the quiens,' said he.
And not a word all dinner time but 'Curse the quiens!'
"I said, I must know who' they were, before I would curse them.
"'Quiens? why, that was dogs.And I knew not even that much? He had made a bad bargain.Well, well,' said he, 'to-morrow we shall be in Germany.There the folk are music bitten, and they molest not beggars, unless they fake to boot, and then they drown us out of hand that moment, curse 'em!' We came to Strasbourg.And Ilooked down Rhine with longing heart.The stream how swift! It seemed running to clip Sevenbergen to its soft bosom.With but a piece of timber and an oar I might drift at my ease to thee, sleeping yet gliding still.'Twas a sore temptation.But the fear of an ill welcome from my folk, and of the neighbours' sneers, and the hope of coming back to thee victorious, not, as now I must, defeated and shamed, and thee with me, it did withhold me; and so, with many sighs, and often turning of the head to look on beloved Rhine, I turned sorrowful face and heavy heart towards Augsburg.""Alas, dame, alas! Good master Eli, forgive me! But I ne'er can win over this part all at one time.It taketh my breath away.
Welladay! Why did he not listen to his heart? Had he not gone through peril enow, sorrow enow? Well-a-day! well-a-day!"The letter dropped from her hand, and she drooped like a wounded lily.
Then there was a clatter on the floor, and it was little Kate going on her crutches, with flushed face, and eyes full of pity, to console her."Water, mother," she cried."I am afeared she shall swoon.""Nay, nay, fear me not," said Margaret feebly."I will not be so troublesome.Thy good-will it maketh me stouter hearted, sweet mistress Kate.For, if thou carest how I fare, sure Heaven is not against me."Catherine."D'ye hear that, my man!"
Eli."Ay, wife, I hear; and mark to boot."Little Kate went back to her place, and Margaret read on.
"The Germans are fonder of armorials than the French.So I found work every day.And whiles I wrought, my master would leave me, and doff his raiment and don his rags, and other infirmities, and cozen the world, which he did clepe it 'plucking of the goose:'
