“Yes, most surely,” she answered. “I would have warmed and fed him, would have given him all I had to aid and comfort him and to send him safe upon his way. And so would you, as I well know.”
“I think—” began Master Simon, and then stopped suddenly to listen.
Quick footsteps sounded on the grass behind the house, the back door was thrown open swiftly and without the ceremony of a knock. Upon the threshold stood Roger Bardwell, wet, panting and eager, his blue eyes no longer sad or troubled, but shining with excited purpose.
“Master Simon,” he cried, although hardly above his breath, “and you, Mistress Margeret, do you dare to give aid to a man who needs your help so sorely that without it he must perish?”
“Yes,” said Master Simon. “Is it the French priest?”
“Ay, it is the priest,” Roger answered. “He is hiding in your garden.”
CHAPTER V
BY CANDLELIGHT
When, a moment later, Roger and Master Simon half helped, half carried the stranger through the door, Margeret’s first feeling was a sinking of the heart and the despairing thought:
“Oh, if only my mother were here!”