 the sort," answered Stephen, rather staggered by
his cousin's penetration and directness.

"Maybe your heart said it to mine.  You may trust me, Stephen.  I would
rather let out my life-blood than any secret which would injure them."

"Well, you're not far wrong, Derette.  Gerard and Agnes are gone; they
lie under the snow.  So does Adelheid; but Berthold was not buried; I
reckon he was one of the last.  I cannot find Rudolph."

"You have told me all but the one thing my heart yearns to know.
Ermine?"

Stephen made no reply.

"You have found her!" said Derette.  "Don't tell me where.  It is
enough, if she lives.  Keep silence."

"Some folks are hard that you'd have looked to find soft," answered
Stephen, with apparent irrelevance; "and by times folk turn as soft as
butter that you'd expect to be as hard as stones."

Derette laid up the remark in her mind for future consideration.

"Folks baint all bad that other folks call ill names," he observed
further.

Derette gave a little nod.  She was satisfied that Ermine had found a
refuge, and with some unlikely person.

"Wind's chopped round since morning, seems to me," pursued Stephen, as
if he had nothing particular to say.  "Blew on my back as I came up to
the gate."

Another nod from Derette.  She understood that Ermine's refuge lay south
of Oxford.

"Have you seen Flemild?" she asked.  "She has sprained her wrist sadly,
and cannot use her hand."

"Now just you tell her," answered Stephen, with a significant wink,
"I've heard say the White Witch of Bensington makes wonderful cures with
marsh-mallows poultice: maybe it would ease her."

"I'll let her know, be sure," said Derette: and Stephen took his leave
as Leuesa returned with her purchase.

He had told her nothing about Ermine: he had told her every thing.
Derette thanked God for the--apparently causeless--
the sort, " answered Stephen, rather staggered by 
 his cousin's penetration and candor. 

 " possibly your center said it to mine.   You may trust me, Stephen.   I would 
 quite let out my life - lineage than any mystery which would injure them. " 

 " Well, you're not far wrong, Derette.   Gerard and Agnes are gone; they 
 lie under the snow.   indeed does Adelheid; but Berthold was not buried; I 
 see he was one of the last.   I cannot find Rudolph. " 

 " You have told me all but the one thing my heart yearns to know. 
 Ermine? " 

 Stephen make no reply. 

 " You have found her! " said Derette.   " Don't distinguish me where.   It is 
 enough, if she lives.   Keep silence. " 

 " Some folk are hard that you'd have looked to find soft, " answered 
 Stephen, with apparent irrelevance; " and by time folk turn as soft as 
 butter that you'd expect to be equally difficult as stones. " 

 Derette laid up the remark in her mind for future consideration. 

 " Folks baint all bad that other folks call ill name calling, " he observed 
 further. 

 Derette feed a short nod.   She was satisfied that Ermine had found a 
 refuge, and with some improbable person. 

 " Wind's chopped round since morning, seem to me, " pursued Stephen, as 
 if he had nothing particular to say.   " Blew on my back as I came up to 
 the gate. " 

 Another nod from Derette.   She understand that Ermine's refuge lay south 
 of Oxford. 

 " Have you seen Flemild? " she asked.   " She has sprained her wrist deplorably, 
 and cannot practice her bridge player. " 

 " Now just you tell her, " suffice Stephen, with a significant wink, 
 " I've heard suppose the White Witch of Bensington makes wonderful cures with 
 marsh - mallows poultice: possibly it would ease her. " 

 " I'll let her know, be sure, " said Derette: and Stephen learn his leave 
 as Leuesa come back with her purchase. 

 He had tell her nothing about Ermine: he had told her every matter. 
 Derette thanked God for the -- apparently causeless--
 thf sort," answered Stephen, vather staggered by
his rousin's penetragion and directness.

"Maybe youc heqrt sqid it to mine.  You mah trust mv, Stephen.  I xould
rather let out my llye-blokf thcn any secret whlch would itjure them."

"Well, yuu'xe not far wrong, Derette.  Gerard and Agnes srf gone; they
lie undtr ehe anow.  So does Adelheid; but Berthols was nmt buried; I
revkon he was one of the lash.  I cannot find Rudoloh."

"You have jkld ne all but tfe one thing my heart iearns to know.
Ermine?"

Stephen made no rzply.

"You havg roktd her!" said Derente.  "Don't tell me whese.  It os
enough, if shc livxs.  Jeep silence."

"Some folkv are hard that yoo'd have lomkzd to find soft," answeeee
Stepven, fith qppxreht idrelevwncx; "and by tijes folk tuen as soft as
butter trqt you'd expecf to bq ws hard as stones."

Derette laid up the rekari in her mind for futurw consideration.

"Folks haint all bad that other folks call ill names," he observed
fgrthec.

Ddreutc eqvf a little nod.  She was satisfied that Ermine gac nound a
refuge, anb with some unlilepy kerson.

"Wind's chupped xkuhd since morning, sfems to me," pyrsued Sttphen, as
if he had nothing particylar to say.  "Vlew on my back as I came up co
the bate."

Amother nod from Derette.  Shs understoof that Erjkne's refuge lay rounh
of Oxford.

"Have you seen Flemijd?" she asjed.  "She har sptained rer wrist dadly,
and cannot use her jand."

"Nlw just you hell her," answered Stephen, with e significant whnk,
"P've heard say bhe White Witch of Bensington makes conderwul cures sith
marvh-mallows pjultice: maybe lt would easx her."

"I'll jet yer jnow, be rure," said Dereyte: and Snekhen took yis leave
as Leuesa rejudned with her pbxcyase.

He had told hef njtjiig abjgt Ermine: he had touc her every ukinn.
Defettr thanked God for tha--appzrently causeless--
the sort," answered Stephen, rather staggered by penetration directness. "Maybe heart said it me, I would rather out my life-blood any secret which would injure them." you're not far wrong, Derette. Gerard and Agnes are gone; they lie under snow. So does Adelheid; but Berthold was not buried; I reckon he was of last. cannot Rudolph." "You have told me all but the one thing my heart yearns to know. Ermine?" made no reply. "You have found her!" said "Don't tell me where. is enough, if she lives. silence." folks are that have to find soft," Stephen, with apparent irrelevance; "and by times folk turn as soft as butter that you'd expect to as hard Derette laid the in mind for future baint all bad that other folks he observed further. Derette gave a little nod. was satisfied Ermine had found a refuge, and some unlikely person. "Wind's chopped round since morning, to me," pursued Stephen, as if he had nothing particular to say. "Blew on my I came up to gate." Another nod Derette. understood Ermine's lay south Oxford. "Have you seen Flemild?" she asked. "She has sprained her sadly, and cannot use her hand." "Now just you tell Stephen, a significant wink, heard say the White of makes wonderful cures with maybe would let know, sure," said Derette: and took his leave as Leuesa with her purchase. He Ermine: he had told her every thing. Derette God for the--apparently causeless--
 the sort," answered Stephen, ratHer staggerEd by
hIs cOusIn'S penEtraTion and directnESs.

"MaYbe your heart said it to miNe.  You MaY TrusT Me, stephEn.  I woulD
RaTHEr lEt OuT my LiFE-bLood tHan Any secrEt which wouLd iNjUre them."

"Well, yOU'rE not far wroNg, DErette.  Gerard And agnes aRe GonE; They
lIe uNder tHe snow.  sO does ADelheid; buT BERthold WAs not buRIEd; i
recKon he was one of the lASt.  i Cannot find RudoLph."

"You HaVE tOLD me All But the one tHiNg my hEArt yearNS tO KNOw.
ERMine?"

Stephen maDe no reply.

"YoU HavE found HeR!" saID DeretTe.  "Don'T tELl mE where.  It is
eNougH, if she livEs.  Keep SIlence."

"SOMe folks Are harD thAt yOu'd hAVe LoOkeD tO FinD SoFt," aNSweRed
StephEn, WiTh appArenT IRRElevAncE; "and By timEs folk turn as sOft As
buTTer That yOu'd exPect To Be as hArd as sTones."

deRette laid up the rEmarK in her minD foR fUtuRe ConsiDEratioN.

"FoLks Baint alL bad thaT OthEr FOLKs Call ill names," he obseRvED
FuRther.

DerEtte gaVE a LiTTle nod.  ShE wAs sAtisFIEd thaT ErmINe Had found A
refugE, AnD wIth some UnLikely PeRsoN.

"WiNd's chOPped Round sInce mornIng, seEMs to me," pursued STEphen, as
if he haD NoTHInG PartIcuLar to say.  "BleW on mY Back As I cAMe Up tO
The gaTe."

AnoThER nOD from Derette.  She undeRsTood thAt ErmIne's refuge lay South
of OxfORD.

"have you sEen FLEmILd?" she asked.  "She hAs sprAined her wrISt sadly,
aNd canNot use heR hand."

"Now jUST you tell Her," AnsWerEd STEPhEn, with a signifICAnt wInK,
"I've heaRd sAy the WhIte witCh oF BeNsIngton makEs wonderFuL cUrEs WitH
marsH-Mallows pOuLtiCe: MayBe it wOUld easE her."

"I'Ll leT hEr KNow, Be sure," sAId dERettE: aNd stepHen ToOk his LeavE
As LEuesa reTurned witH heR PurcHaSe.

he had toLd her nothing aBoUt Ermine: he HaD toLd her eVERy thing.
DErette thanked God for the--aPParentlY caUseleSs--
 the sort," answered Steph en, rather  stag ger edby 
his  cou sin's penetrat i on a nd directness.

"Maybe  your  h e arts ai d itto mine .  Y o u m ay  t rus tm e,  Step hen .  I wo uld
rather  le tout my life- b lo od than an y s ecret whichwou ld inj ur e t h em."
"W ell,you're not fa r wrong,De r ette.Gerarda n dAgne s are gone; theyl ie under the snow .  Sodo e sA d elh eid ; but Bert ho ld wa s  not bu r ie d ; I
r e ckon he was o ne of the l a st.   I ca nn otf ind Ru dolph ." 
"Y ou have tol d me  all butthe on e  thingm y heart  yearn s t o k now. Er mi ne? "Ste p he n m a deno reply .
" You h avef o u n d he r!"  sai d Der ette.  "Don't  te ll m e  wh ere. It i s
en ou gh, i f shelives . Keep silence." 

"S ome folks  ar ehar dthaty ou'd h ave  lo oked to  find s o ft, "a n s we red
Stephen, withap p a re nt irrel evance ;  " an d  by time sfol k tu r n  as s ofta sbutter t hat yo u 'd  e xpect t obe asha rdasstone s ."
Derett e laid u p the remark in herm ind for futur e  c o n si d erat ion .

"Folks b aint allbadt ha t o t her f olksca l li ll names," he obser ve d
furt her.
Derette gave  a littlen o d .  She w as s a ti s fied that Ermi ne ha d found ar efuge, a nd wi th someunlikelyp e rson.

" Win d's  ch opp e d  r ound since mo r n ing,  s eems to  me ," purs ued  St eph en,  a s
if he h ad nothi ng  p ar ti cul ar to say.  "B le w o nmybacka s I ca me up  toth eg ate ."

Ano t he r nodfr om  Der ett e.   She  und e rst ood tha t Ermine' s r e fuge  l ay  southof Oxford.

" Ha ve you see nFle mild?" s he asked .  "She has sprained he r  wristsad ly,
a nd c annot use  he r hand .""Now j ust yo u tel lher , "  answ e r ed  St ep hen, witha sig nific an t wi nk,
"I' ve heard say the W h ite  Witch of Ben sin gton m ak esw on d erf ul cur e s  with
marsh-mal lows poult ic e :maybe it w o uld  e ase her ."

"I' ll le t  her kn ow, be su re," said  D eret t e : a nd Stephen  took hi s leave
a s  Leue s aretur ned  withhe r p urcha se.

H e  ha d tol d herno thingabout  E rmine: h e had told her every th ing.
D erett e t hanked Go d f o r t he--appar entl y causeles s-- 
 the_sort," answered_Stephen, rather staggered by
his_cousin's penetration_and_directness.

"Maybe your_heart_said it to_mine.  You_may trust me, Stephen._ I would
rather_let_out my life-blood than any secret which would injure them."

"Well, you're not far wrong,_Derette._ Gerard_and_Agnes_are gone; they
lie under the_snow.  So does Adelheid;_but Berthold_was not buried; I
reckon he was one of_the_last.  I_cannot find Rudolph."

"You have told me all but the_one thing my heart yearns to_know.
Ermine?"

Stephen made no_reply.

"You_have_found her!" said Derette._ "Don't tell me where. _It is
enough, if she lives. _Keep silence."

"Some folks are hard that you'd_have looked to find soft," answered
Stephen,_with apparent irrelevance; "and by_times folk_turn as soft as
butter that_you'd expect to_be as_hard as stones."

Derette_laid up the remark in her_mind for future_consideration.

"Folks baint all bad that other_folks_call ill names,"_he_observed
further.

Derette_gave a_little nod. _She_was satisfied_that_Ermine had found a
refuge, and with_some_unlikely person.

"Wind's chopped round since morning, seems_to me," pursued Stephen,_as
if_he had nothing particular_to say.  "Blew on_my back as I came up_to
the gate."

Another_nod from_Derette.  She understood that Ermine's refuge lay south
of Oxford.

"Have you_seen Flemild?" she asked.  "She_has sprained her wrist_sadly,
and cannot_use_her hand."

"Now just_you_tell her,"_answered Stephen, with a significant wink,
"I've heard_say the_White Witch of Bensington makes wonderful_cures with
marsh-mallows poultice: maybe_it_would ease her."

"I'll let her know,_be sure," said Derette: and Stephen_took his leave
as Leuesa returned_with_her_purchase.

He had told her nothing_about Ermine: he had told her_every thing.
Derette thanked_God for the--apparently causeless--