t.
Biggest worry I have, she is!"

"Be thankful, my daughter, if thy biggest worry be outside thine own
door."

"That I would, Father, if I could keep her outside, but she's always
a-coming in."

The priest laughed.

"I will speak to my brother Vincent about her," he said. "You know the
Castle is not in my parish."

"Well, I pray you, Father, do tell Father Vincent to give it her strong.
She's one o' them that won't do with it weak. It'll just run off her
like water on a duck's back. Father, do you think my poor man 'll ever
come back?"

The priest grew grave when asked that question.

"I cannot tell, my daughter. Bethink thee, that if he fall in that holy
conflict, he is assured of Heaven. How long is it since his departing?"

"It's two years good, Father--going in three: and I'm glad enough he
should be sure of Heaven, but saving your presence, I want him here on
earth. It's hard work for a lone woman to bring up four children, never
name boys, that's as rampageous as young colts, and about as easy to
catch. And the younger and sillier they are, the surer they are to
think they know better than their own mother."

"That is a standing grievance, daughter," said the priest with a smile,
as he rose to take leave. "Well, I am glad to hear so good a report of
these strangers. So long as they conduct themselves well, and come to
church, and give no offence to any, there can be no harm in your giving
them hospitality. But remember that if they give any occasion of
scandal, your duty will be to let me know, that I may deal with them.
The saints keep you!"

No occasion of scandal required that duty from Isel. Every now and then
Gerhardt absented himself--for what purpose she did not know; but he
left Agnes and Ermine behind, and they never told the object of his
journeys. At home he lived quietly enough, generally following his
trade of weaving, but always ready to do any thing required by his
hostess. Isel came to congratulate herself highly on the presence of
her quiet, kindly, helpful guests. In a house where the whole upper
floor formed a single bedchamber, divided only by curtains stretched
across, and the whole ground-floor was parlour and kitchen in one, a few
inmates more or less, so long as they were pleasant and peaceable, were
of small moment. Outwardly, the Germans conducted themselves in no way
pointedly different from their English hosts. They indulged in rather
longer prayers, but t