“Eh, dear, good gentlemen, you’ll never take the little child!” pleaded Isel. “Why, he is but a babe. I’ll swear to you by every saint in the Calendar, if you will, to bring him up the very best of Catholic Christians, under Father Dolfin’s eye. What can he have done?”
“He believes what has been taught him, probably,” said the sumner grimly. “But I cannot help it, good wife—the boy’s name is in the writ. The only favour in my power to show is to tie him with his mother. Come now, the rope—quick!”
“No rope of mine shall tie them!” said Isel, with sudden determination which no one had expected from her. “You may go buy your own ropes for such innocent lambs, for I’ll not find you one!”
“But a rope of mine shall!” thundered Manning. “Sit down, silly woman, and hold thy tongue.—I beseech you, my masters, to pardon this foolish creature; women are always making simpletons of themselves.”
“Don’t put yourself out, good man,” answered the sumner with a smile of superiority; “I have a wife and four daughters.”
Haimet now appeared with a rope which he handed to the sumner, who proceeded to tie together first Gerhardt and Ermine, then Agnes and Rudolph. The child was thoroughly frightened, and sobbing piteously.
“Oh deary, deary me!” wailed poor Isel. “That ever such a day should come to my house! Dame Mary, and all the blessed Saints in Heaven, have mercy on us! Haven’t I always said there was nought but trouble in this world?”
“It’s no good vexing, Mother; it has to be,” said Flemild, but there were tears in her eyes. “I’m glad Derette’s not here.”
Derette had gone to see her cousins at the Castle,—a sort of farewell visit before entering the anchorhold.
“Then I’m sorry,” said Isel. “She might have given those rascals a lick with the rough side of her tongue—much if she wouldn’t, too. I’d like to have heard it, I would!”