Ann looked right sweetly as she told my aunt that she felt put to shame by the great loving-kindness which had brought the feeble lady out through the forest in the bitter winter weather for her sake, and she kissed the thin, small hand with deep feeling; and even the elder woman unbent and freely gave vent before her favorite to the full warmth of her heart, which she was not wont to display.  She had told the Pernharts what were the fears which had brought her into the town, so the chamber was presently cleared, and the master called away Mistress Giovanna after that my aunt had expressed her admiration of her rare charms.

As I too was now preparing to retire, which methought but seemly Aunt Jacoba beckoned me to stay.  Ann likewise understood what had brought her sickly friend to her, and she whispered to me that albeit she was deeply thankful for the abundant goodness my aunt had ever shown her, yet could she never swerve from her well-considered purpose.  To this I was only able to reply that on one point at least she must change her mind, for that I knew for certain that old grand-dame Pernhart loved her truly.  At this she cried out gladly and thankfully:  “Oh, Margery! if only that were true!”

So soon as we three were left together, my aunt went to the heart of the matter at once, saying frankly to what end she had come hither, that she knew all that Ann had suffered through Herdegen, and how well she had taken it, and that she had now set her mind on wedding with the Magister.

And whereas Ann here broke in with a resolute “And that I will!” my aunt put it to her that she must be off with one or ever she took on the other lover.  Herdegen had come before Master Peter, and the first question therefor was as to how matters stood with him.

At this Ann humbly besought her to ask nothing concerning him; if my aunt loved her she would forbear from touching on the scarce-healed wound.  So much as this she said, though with pain and grief; but her friend was not to be moved, but cried:  “And do I not thank Master Ulsenius when he thrusts his probe to the heart of my evil, when he cuts or burns it?  Have you not gladly approved his saying that the leech should never despair so long as the sick man’s heart still throbs?  Well then, your trouble with Herdegen is sick and sore and lies right deep. . . .”

But Ann broke in again, crying:  “No, no, noble lady, the heart of that matter has ceased to beat.  It is dead and gone for ever!”

“Is it so?” said my aunt coolly.  “Still, look it close in the face.  Old Im Hoff—­I have read the letter-commands your lover to give you up and do his bidding.  Yet, child, does he take good care not to write this to you.  Finding it over hard to say it himself, he leaves the task to Margery.  And as for that letter; a Lenten jest I called it yestereve; and so it is verily!  Read it once more.  Why, it is as dripping with love as a garment drips when it is fished out of a pool!  While he is trying to shut the door on you he clasps you to his heart.  Peradventure his love never glowed so hotly, and he was never so strongly drawn to you as when he wrote this paltry stuff to burst the sacred bands which bind you together.  Are you so dull as not to feel this?”