"No, dear Drost!" exclaimed Margaretha, half alarmed; "if you will peril your precious life in any cause, let it be in that higher and more important one to which you have dedicated it, but not for the fate of two insignificant captives. To suffer injustice is, besides, surely not the greatest misfortune," she added, with a look of mildness and love, as she raised her long-fringed eyelids, and gazed through the window panes up to the clear heavens. "Do not hasten rashly for our sake; we will willingly wait for the Lord and for his appointed hour. When we think but on the injustice our Lord suffered for our sakes, we may surely bear our little cross throughout a short life for his sake. The blessing of Heaven be with you, noble Drost Aagé!" she continued; "heartfelt thanks for the kindness with which you have rendered our captivity imperceptible. We shall miss you very much. I shall, no doubt, forget how to play at chess; but what we have spoken together at the chessboard I can never forget. The sweet ballads you taught me I shall also remember; and when we maidens talk of Florez and Blantseflor, we will remember you also, and the quiet evenings by the hearth here, and all the beautiful tales of chivalry you told us. If the king comes hither in the spring, as they say, you will surely come with him?"
"Perhaps," answered Aagé; "at any rate I will please myself with that hope. But where the king or his true knights will be in the spring it hardly lies in his power to determine, noble maiden. It is a dangerous and troublous time. May the Lord order all things for us for the best!"
"He will do so assuredly, and always, dear Drost!" said Margaretha, in a confiding and friendly tone, as she laid her hand on his right arm, which rested on the casement of the large window. "Even that which seems worst and most unfortunate to us turns out at last to be the best, if no sin be in it. This captivity, which a few weeks back appeared so terrible to me, hath notwithstanding been the happiest time I have passed since my father and mother died."
"Sweet Margaretha!" whispered Aagé, with subdued fervour, laying his left hand on hers, which still rested upon his right arm; "dare I hope I have the smallest share in that heavenly peace and joy which I daily see beaming from your meek and loving eyes? Your hope and peace are doubtless drawn from the fountain of Eternal Life; such joys come not to you from any human source."
"In every noble and pious heart assuredly there shines a ray from yon source of Eternal Life!" answered Margaretha; "though its deepest source be hid in the heart of the Redeemer, which bled for our sakes, that it might include every soul in its unfathomable depths of grace and commiserating love."
"Most precious of beings!" exclaimed Aagé, with overflowing emotion; "dare I hope that which I dare not utter?" He paused; then added, in a calmer tone, "Will you, then, really miss me at times, and sing the songs I taught you?"
"Indeed, indeed I will--but the stranger guest would talk with you, Sir Drost!" interrupted Margaretha, hastily, and blushing as she withdrew her hand. "As I told you," she added aloud, as she stepped forward with Aagé out of the recess, and vainly sought to hide her bashfulness and confusion; "the bandage round your neck you must keep on, and the sling to support your arm."
"If it is convenient to you. Sir Drost!" said Master Petrus, who had modestly approached, without interrupting his conversation with the fair maiden, "we might now perhaps conclude our affairs in your private chamber."
"I will attend you instantly, venerable Sir! Permit me but a parting word to the noble and hospitable hostess."
"And to me also, surely, Sir Drost! although we have never been exactly able to agree?" interrupted Ulrica, rising from the table, where Master Rumelant's panegyrics on his excellent lords and Mecænases already began to weary her.