He went into the church, and after kissing the steps, prayed long and earnestly for the soul of her whose resting-place he could not find.
Coming out of the church he saw a very old man looking over the little churchyard gate. He went towards him, and asked him did he live in the place.
“Four score and twelve years, man and boy. And I come here every day of late, holy father, to take a peep. This is where I look to bide ere long.”
“My son, can you tell me where Margaret lies?”
“Margaret? There's a many Margarets here.”
“Margaret Brandt. She was daughter to a learned physician.”
“As if I didn't know that,” said the old man pettishly. “But she doesn't lie here. Bless you, they left this a longful while ago. Gone in a moment, and the house empty. What, is she dead? Margaret a Peter dead? Now only think on't. Like enow; like enow, They great towns do terribly disagree wi' country folk.”
“What great towns, my son?”
“Well, 'twas Rotterdam they went to from here, so I heard tell; or was it Amsterdam? Nay, I trow 'twas Rotterdam? And gone there to die!”
Clement sighed.