“Whisht! whisht!” said Eli, “and let Denys tell his story.”
“'Nay,' said I, 'but be ruled by me.' 'Not I,' quoth she. 'Well, but,' quoth I, 'that same honey Obedience ye spake of.' 'You are a fool,' says she; 'obedience to Gerard is sweet, but obedience to any other body, who ever said that was sweet?'
“At last she seemed to soften a bit, and did give me a written paper for you, mademoiselle. Here 'tis.”
“For me?” said little Kate, colouring.
“Give that here!” said Eli, and he scanned the writing, and said almost in a whisper, “These be words from the letter Hearken!
“'And, sweetheart, an if these lines should travel safe to thee, make thou trial of my people's hearts withal. Maybe they are somewhat turned towards me, being far away. If 'tis so they will show it to thee, since now to me they may not. Read, then, this letter! But I do strictly forbid thee to let it from thy hand; and if they still hold aloof from thee, why, then say nought, but let them think me dead. Obey me in this; for, if thou dost disrespect my judgment and my will in this, thou lovest me not.'”
There was a silence, and Gerard's words copied by Margaret here handed round and inspected.
“Well,” said Catherine, “that is another matter. But methinks 'tis for her to come to us, not we to her.”
“Alas, mother! what odds does that make?”
“Much,” said Eli. “Tell her we are over many to come to her, and bid her hither, the sooner the better.”