He stopped in a sort of awe, for tears fell from her eyes, and she kissed his forehead.

“Will you not help me, good madam?” he entreated.  “I went down to Goody Madge, and she said there was a chance for me every seven years.  The first went by, but this is my fourteenth year.  I had a hope when the King spoke of beheading me, but he was only in jest, as I might have known.  Then methought I would try what Midsummer night in the fairy ring would do, but that was in vain; and now you, who could cross me if you would, will not believe.  Oh, will you not make the trial?”

“Alas!  Peregrine, supposing I could do it in good faith, would you become a mere tricksy sprite, a thing of the elements, and yield up your hopes as a Christian soul, a child of God and heir of Heaven?”

“My father says I am an heir of hell.”

“No, no, never,” she cried, shuddering at his quiet way of saying it.  “You are flesh and blood, christened, and with the hope set before you.”

“The christening came too late,” he said.  “O lady, you who are so good and pitiful, let my mother get back her true Peregrine—­a straight-limbed, comely dullard, such as would be welcome to her.  She would bless and thank you, and for me, to be a Will-of-the-wisp, or what not, would be far better than the life I lead.  Never did I know what my mother calls peace till I lay here.”

“Ah, Peregrine, poor lad, your value for peace and for my poor kindness proves that you have a human heart and are no elf.”

“Indeed, I meant to flit about and give you good dreams, and keep off all that could hurt or frighten you,” he said earnestly.

“Only the human soul could feel so, dear boy,” she answered tenderly.

“And you really disbelieve—­the other,” he said wistfully.

“This is what I verily believe, my child:  that there were causes to make you weakly, and that you may have had some palsy stroke or convulsive fit perhaps at the moment you were left alone.  Such would explain much of your oddness of face, which made the ignorant nurses deem you changed; and thus it was only your father who, by God’s mercy, saved you from a miserable death, to become, as I trust, a good and true man, and servant of God.”  Then answering a hopeless groan, she added, “Yes, it is harder for you than for many.  I see that these silly servants have so nurtured you in this belief that you have never even thought it worth while to strive for goodness, but supposed tricksomeness and waywardness a part of your nature.”

“The only pleasure in life is paying folk off,” said Peregrine, with a glitter in his eye.  “It serves them right.”

“And thus,” she said sadly, “you have gone on hating and spiting, deeming yourself a goblin without hope or aim; but now you feel that you have a Christian soul you will strive with evil, you will so love as to win love, you will pray and conquer.”