“I hope I am,” replied Stephen, going forward. Ermine was no longer hidden behind the screen, but seated on the form in the chimney-corner. On her calm fair brow there was no scar visible.
“Ay, ain’t she a fine cure!” cried the old woman. “That’s white mallows, that is, and just a pinch of—Well, I’d best tell no tales. But she’s a grand cure; I don’t hide her up now. Nobody’d ever guess nought, from the look of her, now, would folks? What think you?”
“No, I hope they wouldn’t,” answered Stephen: “leastwise they sha’n’t if I can help it.”
Haldane laid her hand on his arm impressively.
“Stephen, you must take her away.”
“I’ll take her fast enough, if she’ll go, Mother; but why? I reckoned she was as safe here as she could be anywhere.”
“She was,” said Haldane significantly. “She won’t be, presently. I don’t tell my secrets: but the Wise Woman knows a thing or two. You’d best take her, and waste no time: but it must not be to Oxford. There’s folks there would know her face.”
“Ay, to be sure there are. Well, Mother, I’ll do your bidding. Where’ll she be safest?”
“You’d best be in London. It’s the biggest place. And when a man wants to hide, he’ll do it better in a large town than a little place, where every body knows his neighbour’s business.”
“All right!” said Stephen. “Ermine!”—and he went up to her—“will you go with me?”