"Ay, sure."
"Then what a saint a dormouse must be!"
"Out, fie, mistress. Would ye even a beast to a man?"
"Come Reicht," said Margaret, "my poor father taught me overmuch. So I will e'en sit here; and look at the manse once more. Go thou forward and question thy solitary; and tell me whether ye get nought or nonsense out of him; for 'twill be one."
As Reicht drew near the cave, a number of birds flew out of it. She gave a little scream, and pointed to the cave to show Margaret they had come thence. On this Margaret felt sure there was no human being in the cave, and gave the matter no further attention. She fell into a deep reverie while looking at the little manse.
She was startled from it by Reicht's hand upon her shoulder, and a faint voice, saying, "Let us go home."
"You got no answer at all, Reicht," said Margaret, calmly.
"No, Margaret," said Reicht, despondently. And they returned home.
Perhaps after all Margaret had nourished some faint secret hope in her heart, though her reason had rejected it; for she certainly went home more dejectedly.
Just as they entered Rotterdam, Reicht said, "Stay! Oh, Margaret, I am ill at deceit; but 'tis death to utter ill news to thee; I love thee so dear."