Here he broke in with scornful laughter, and cried out that he, for his part, might not indeed hope to be numbered among those chosen few.  He had ever known full well that when we did him any Samaritan service it had been to no end save to draw from his purse the money to ransom my brothers and Ann’s lover.  Every kind word had been pure lies and falseness; yea, and worse than either of us were that crafty witch out in the forest, and the old scarecrow who made boast of having been as a mother to me.  Thus far had I suffered his railing in patience, but now it was too much for the hot blood of the Schoppers; I could refrain myself no longer, and broke out in great wrath and reproaches for so vile an accusation.  If it were not that his age and infirmities claimed our compassion, I would, said I, after such evil treatment, desire of Ann that she should never more cross the threshold of a man who could so cruelly defame us, and those two good women to whom we owed so much.

I spoke right loudly, beside myself with rage, and my face aglow; nor was it till I marked that my uncle was staring at me as at some marvel that I recovered myself, and on a sudden held my peace, inasmuch as the thought flashed through my brain that I was denying my brother even as Peter denied the Lord, albeit not indeed through any fear of man, but by giving way to my angered pride.  Howbeit I had not long ceased when the stern old man cried out in pitiful entreaty.

“Nay, Margery, in the name of the Saints I pray you!  You will not make Ann my foe.  How hardhearted you can be, and how wroth, and against an old man sick unto death on the edge of the grave!—­what was it, in truth, that brought the bitter words to my tongue, but my care and fears for you, who are verily and indeed my only comfort and all I have to love on earth?  And now when I say again:  I will not suffer you to depart.  I will sacrifice all, everything to keep you from running into certain death, will you even then threaten to leave me alone in my misery, and to beguile Ann to desert me likewise?”

Hereupon I spoke him fair and as lovingly as in truth I might, and pledged my word that Ann should not set foot without the city gates or ever my lord Cardinal had come into them, and had given him the comfort of his blessing.  And then he was of better cheer, and of his own free will he minded me of his promise to pay certain moneys for Herdegen’s ransom; and all this he spoke full lovingly and my heart overflowed with true and fervent thankfulness, so that I took his thin hand and kissed it.  Howbeit, he knew not yet how great a sum was needed:  and whereas I was about to prepare his mind for the worst, Ann came into the chamber, and as soon as my grand-uncle saw her he cried out in glad good cheer:  “Thank God, sweet maid, all is peace between us again.  You forego your mad purpose, and I—­I will pay the ransom.”  At this Ann flew to his side and thanked him, with overflowing eyes, and little by little we led him on, till he cried out:  “Well, well, children, they surely cannot set the price of a kingdom on that young scapegrace Schopper’s head!”