Stephen told his story.
“You may be very certain we shall not speak a word to injure Ermine,” said Leuesa. “Ay, I’ll come and see her, and glad I shall be. Why, Stephen, I thought more of Ermine than you knew; I called one of my little maids after her. Ermine and Derette they are. I can never forget a conversation I once had with Gerard, when he took me back to the Castle from Isel’s house; I did not think so much of it at the time, but it came to me with power afterwards, when he had sealed his faith with his blood.”
“Ah! there’s nothing like dying, to make folks believe you,” commented Roscius.
“Can’t agree with you there, friend,” answered Stephen with a smile. “There is one other thing, and that is living. A man may give his life in a sudden spurt of courage and enthusiasm. It is something more to see him spend his life in patient well-doing through many years. That is the harder of the two to most.”
“Maybe it is,” assented Roscius. “I see now why you were so anxious about old Haldane.”
“Ay, we owed her no little. And I cannot but think she had some notion, poor soul! of what was coming: she was in such haste to get us off by dawn. If I had known—”
“Eh, what could you have done if you had?” responded Roscius. “Wigan told me there were hundreds in the crowd.”
“Nothing, perchance,” answered Stephen sadly. “Well! the good Lord knew best, and He ordered matters both for us and her.”
“Wigan said he thought she had been forewarned—I know not why.”
“Ay, I think some one must have given her a hint. That was why she sent us off so early.”