"Oh! Raff, you frighten me—tell me more—you speak so strange—and you tremble. I must know all."
"If I tremble, mine vrouw, it must be from the fever. There is no guilt on my soul, thank God!"
"Take a sip of this wine, Raff. There, now you are better. It was like to a crime you were saying."
"Aye, Meitje, like to murder; that he told me himself. But I'll never believe it. A likely lad, fresh and honest looking as our own youngster, but with something not so bold and straight about him."
"Aye, I know," said the dame, gently, fearing to interrupt the story.
"He came upon me quite sudden," continued Raff. "I had never seen his face before, the palest, frightenedest face that ever was. He caught me by the arm. 'You look like an honest man,' says he."
"Aye, he was right in that," interrupted the dame, emphatically.
Raff looked somewhat bewildered.
"Where was I, mine vrouw?"
"The lad took hold of your arm, Raff," she said, gazing at him anxiously.