"You love him," he blurted out, awkwardly.
The blood rushed to the girl's face, even reddening her ears. For an instant she looked at him speechless, her breast heaving tumultuously and great tear-drops running down her cheeks. He was frightened at the effect of his brutal words.
"Forgive me," he stammered. "I meant not to hurt thee, but, Matilda, dear heart, there has never been other maid in the world for me."
"Oh, Richard, Richard," she sobbed, "he is a priest, a priest of God, and thou canst speak to me like this!"
"So, then, you wot not that the poor priests do marry."
At this she started violently, and all the color sped quickly from her cheeks.
"How—a priest wed!"
"Ay!" he said bitterly, seeing how it was with her. "Ay, John Ball hath preached for many a day that all priests should be as other men, even to the taking of a wife."
"Oh, Richard, I wist not, I wist not. I thought a priest was above other men—I never thought of him as—as—" and she turned from him and flung her face in her arms on the table. And there he left her, for he had not that within him to comfort her, seeing that his own heart was broken.