“And I could not think of that; bless thee, sweet Margaret, thy mind is stronger than mine, and readier.”
“Nay, nay, a woman looks but a little way, therefore she sees clear. I'll come over myself to-morrow.”
And on this they parted with mutual blessings.
Joan glided home remorseful.
And after that she used to check all surmises to their discredit. “Beware,” she would say, “lest some angel should blister thy tongue. Gerard and Margaret paramours? I tell ye they are two saints which meet in secret to plot charity to the poor.”
In the summer of 1481 Gerard determined to provide against similar disasters recurring to his poor. Accordingly he made a great hole in his income, and bled his friends (zealous parsons always do that) to build a large Xenodochium to receive the victims of flood or fire. Giles and all his friends were kind, but all was not enough; when lo! the Dominican monks of Gouda to whom his parlour and heart had been open for years, came out nobly, and put down a handsome sum to aid the charitable vicar.
“The dear good souls,” said Margaret; “who would have thought it?”
“Any one who knows them,” said Gerard, “Who more charitable than monks?”
“Go to! They do but give the laity back a pig of their own sow.”
“And what more do I? What more doth the duke?”