“Nay, fear me not,” said Ghysbrecht; “I come on a friend's errand. I bring ye a letter from foreign parts.”
“Mock me not, old man,” and she turned slowly round.
“Nay, see;” and he held out an enormous letter.
Margaret darted on it, and held it with trembling hands and glistening eyes. It was Gerard's handwriting.
“Oh, thank you, sir, bless you for this, I forgive you all the ill you ever wrought me.”
And she pressed the letter to her bosom with one hand, and glided swiftly from the room with it.
As she did not come back, Ghysbrecht went away, but not without a scowl at Martha. Margaret was hours alone with her letter.
CHAPTER LI
When she came down again she was a changed woman. Her eyes were wet, but calm, and all her bitterness and excitement charmed away.