“It is in sooth,” replied Francis falling to heartily. Under the influence of warmth and comfort her fear of the woman had vanished. “Think you, good mother, that the storm will soon pass?”
“Nay;” answered she her face softening at the appellation. “Not till midnight comes; for
| “When storm comes at end of day |
| The midnight hour takes the rain away.’” |
“Then I must forth at midnight,” she declared.
“Thy need must be urgent that impels thee onward through the darkness,” observed the woman keenly. “Boy, what is thy business? Would have me read the stars for its issue?”
“Nay, mother,” answered Francis in agitated tones. “Were it favorable all would be well, but if it were evil I would not know of it. But it will not be ill. It must not, shall not be!”
She arose and paced the floor, chafing that she must be inactive when time was so precious. The dame regarded her curiously. Presently she spoke.
“Mistress, I may not call thee because of thy garb. Master, I cannot because of thy sex; but whatsoe’er thou art, tell old Margery why thou art so dressed, and why you wander forth alone?”
“Woman, are you in very truth a witch?” cried the girl in astonishment.