The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages

  CHAPTER XLV

  EXPERIENCED women are not frightened when a woman faints, nor do theyhastily attribute it to anything but physical causes, which they haveoften seen produce it. Catherine bustled about; laid the girl down withher head on the floor quite flat, opened the window, and unloosed herdress as she lay. Not till she had done all this did she step to thedoor and say, rather loudly:

  "Come here, if you please."

  Margaret Van Eyck and Reicht came and found Margaret lying quite flat,and Catherine beating her hands.

  "Oh, my poor girl! What have you done to her?"

  "Me?" said Catherine, angrily.

  "What has happened, then?"

  "Nothing, madam; nothing more than is natural in her situation."

  Margaret Van Eyck coloured with ire.

  "You do well to speak so coolly," said she, "you that are the cause ofher situation."

  "That I am not," said Catherine, bluntly, "nor any woman born."

  "What? was it not you and your husband that kept them apart: and now heis gone to Italy all alone. Situation indeed? You have broken her heartamongst you."

  "Why, madam? Who is it then? in Heaven's name? to hear you one wouldthink this was my Gerard's lass. But that can't be. This fur never costless than five crowns the ell; besides, this young gentlewoman is awife; or ought to be."

  "Of course she ought. And who is the cause she is none? Who came betweenthem at the very altar?"

  "God forgive them, whoever it was," said Catherine, gravely: "me it wasnot, nor my man."

  "Well," said the other, a little softened, "now you have seen herperhaps you will not be quite so bitter against her, madam. She iscoming to, thank Heaven."

  "Me bitter against her?" said Catherine: "no; that is all over. Poorsoul! trouble behind her and trouble afore her; and to think of mysetting her, of all living women, to read Gerard's letter to me. Ay, andthat was what made her go off, I'll be sworn. She is coming to. What,sweetheart? be not afeard, none are here but friends."

  They seated her in an easy chair. As the colour was creeping back to herface and lips, Catherine drew Margaret Van Eyck aside.

  "Is she staying with you, if you please?"

  "No, madam."

  "I wouldn't let her go back to Sevenbergen to-night, then."

  "That is as she pleases. She still refuses to bide the night."

  "Ay, but you are older than she is; you can make her. There, she isbeginning to notice." Catherine then put her mouth to Margaret VanEyck's ear for half a moment; it did not seem time enough to whisper aword, far less a sentence. But on some topics females can flashcommunication to female like lightning, or thought itself.

  The old lady started, and whispered back.

  "It's false! it is a calumny! it is monstrous! Look at her face. It isblasphemy to accuse such a face."

  "Tut! tut! tut!" said the other, "you might as well say this is not myhand. I ought to know; and I tell ye it is _so_."

  Then much to Margaret Van Eyck's surprise she went up to the girl, and,taking her round the neck, kissed her warmly. "I suffered for Gerard,and you shed your blood for him I do hear: his own words show me I havebeen to blame, the very words you have read to me. Ay, Gerard, my child,I have held aloof from her. But I'll make it up to her, once I begin.You are my daughter from this hour."

  Another warm embrace sealed this hasty compact, and the woman of impulsewas gone.

  Margaret lay back in her chair, and a feeble smile stole over her face.Gerard's mother had kissed her and called her daughter; but the nextmoment she saw her old friend looking at her with a vexed air.

  "I wonder you let that woman kiss you."

  "His mother!" murmured Margaret, half reproachfully.

  "Mother, or no mother, you would not let her touch you if you knew whatshe whispered in my ear about you."

  "About me?" said Margaret, faintly.

  "Ay, about you whom she never saw till to-night." The old lady wasproceeding, with some hesitation and choice of language, to makeMargaret share her indignation, when an unlooked-for interruption closedher lips.

  The young woman slid from her chair to her knees, and began to praypiteously to her for pardon. From the words and the manner of herpenitence a bystander would have gathered she had inflicted some cruelwrong, some intolerable insult, upon her venerable friend.