“Sevenbergen is farther from the Stadthouse than we are,” said Kate thoughtfully; “yet she was there afore me.”
Catherine nodded intelligence.
“Nay, more, she had got him out ere I came. Ay, down from the captive's tower.”
Catherine shook her head incredulously. “The highest tower for miles! It is not feasible.”
“'Tis sooth though. She and an old man she brought found means and wit to send him up a rope. There 'twas dangling from his prison, and our Giles went up it. When first I saw it hang, I said, 'This is glamour.' But when the frank lass's arms came round me, and her bosom' did beat on mine, and her cheeks wet, then said I, ''Tis not glamour: 'tis love.' For she is not like me, but lusty and able; and, dear heart, even I, poor frail creature, do feel sometimes as I could move the world for them I love: I love you, mother. And she loves Gerard.”
“God bless her for't! God bless her!”
“But
“But what, lamb?”
“Her love, is it for very certain honest? 'Tis most strange; but that very thing, which hath warmed your heart, hath somewhat cooled mine towards her; poor soul. She is no wife, you know, mother, when all is done.”
“Humph! They have stood at the altar together.”