And Margaret sat at the door of her lodge in the moonlight, putting the last stitches into her work. But when she saw him coming she broke her thread, and rose and averted her head. Then Hobb dismounted and came and stood beside her, and saw that in some way she was changed from the woman he knew. Margaret, still not turning to him, muttered, "Do not look at me, please. For I am ugly and unhappy and afraid and nearly mad. And here are your brothers' shirts." She gave him the four shirts, restored to themselves. He took them silently. "And here," continued Margaret, "is her wedding-smock." And Hobb took it from her, and saw that out of his own shirt, washed and bleached, she had made a lovely garment. And round it, from the hem upward, ran a climbing briar of exquisite delicacy, and with a beautiful design of spines and leaves; but the only flower upon it was a golden rose, worked on the heart of the smock in her own gold hair. And Hobb took it from her and again said nothing. Then Margaret with a great cry, as though her heart were breaking, gasped, "Go! go quickly! I have done what you wanted. Go!" "Yes, dear," said Hobb, "but you must come with me." She turned then, whispering, "How can I go with you? What do you mean?" And she looked in his eyes and saw in them such infinite compassion and tenderness that she was overwhelmed, and swayed where she stood. And then his arms, which she had never expected to feel again, closed round her body, and she lay helplessly against him, and heard him say, "Love Margaret, you are my only love, and you worked the wedding-smock for yourself. Oh, Margaret, did you think I had another love?" She looked at him blankly as though she could not understand, and her face was full of wonder and joy and fright. And she hung away from him sobbing, "No, no, no! I cannot. I must not. I am not good enough." "Which of us is good enough?" said Hobb. "So then we must all come to love for help."