silent; then,
while he lifted me from the saddle, he asked me in a low tone if I had
already warned Ann of my aunt's strange demeanor. This I could tell him
I had indeed done; nevertheless I saw by his face that he was not easy
till he could lead Ann to his wife, and had learnt that the maid had
found such favor in her eyes as, in truth, nor he nor I were so bold as
to hope. But with what sweet dignity did the clerk's daughter kiss
the somewhat stern lady's hand--as I had bidden her, and how modestly,
though with due self-respect, did she go through Dame Jacoba's
inquisition. For my part I should have lost patience all too soon, if I
had thus been questioned touching matters concerning myself alone; but
Ann kept calm till the end, and at the same time she spoke as openly as
though the inquisitor had been her own mother. This, in truth, somewhat
moved me to fear; for, albeit I likewise cling to the truth, meseemed
it showed it a lack of prudence and foresight to discover so freely and
frankly all that was poor or lacking in her home; inasmuch as there
was much, even there, which could not be better or more seemly in the
richest man's dwelling. In truth, to my knowledge there was not the
smallest thing in the little house by the river of which a virtuous
damsel need feel ashamed. But at night, in our bed-chamber, Ann
confessed to me that she had taken it as a favor of fortune that she
should be allowed, at once, to lay bare to the great lady who had been
so unwilling to open her doors to her, exactly what she was and to whom
she belonged.

"To be deemed unworthy of heed by my lady hostess," said she, "would
have been hard to bear; but whereas she truly cared to question me, a
simple maid, and I have nothing hid, all is clear and plain betwixt us."

My aunt doubtless thought in like manner; for she was a truthful woman,
and Ann's honest, firm, and withal gentle way had won her heart. And
yet, since she was strait in her opinions, and must deem it unseemly in
me and my kinsfolk to receive a maid of lower birth as one of ourselves,
she stoutly avowed that Ann's worthy father, as being chief clerk in the
Chancery, might claim to be accounted one of the Council. Never, as she
said to my uncle, would she have suffered a workingman's daughter to
cross her threshold, whereas she had a large place, not alone at her
table but in her heart, for this gentle daughter of a worthy member of
the worshipful Council.

And such speech wa