“Yes. I’m Joan.”
“You have been away a long time.”
“Aye. Three years come Saint John’s Eve.”
“Three years.—I have been here three years.”
“You are the physician?” asked Joan. “You live at the Oak Grange with Master Hardwick?”
“Aye. At the Oak Grange.”
“They say that fairies dance there and that a demon haunts it.”
“‘They say’ is the father and mother of delusion.”
“I would wish there were no demons,” said Joan, “but some fairies are not ill folk. But the minister saith that God hates all alike.”
They came to the edge of the forest, before them the threadlike green path to Heron’s cottage. “I must go on now by the road,” said Aderhold. Joan held out her hands and he put in them the white and grey cat. “You are a good maid to help me,” he said. “I have little power to do aught for any one, but if I can serve you ever I will.” He turned to the road and the sick man, she to the cottage gate.