"I would take it, if you would give it." "And you know that no Court in this land would receive the witness of a Jew! You know it?" she repeated fierily. "I know it," he answered, rather sadly. "Yet you would take mine?" "God would know if you spoke truth. He is the Avenger of all that have none other." "He has work to do, then!" replied Countess bitterly. "He would not be too busy, if need were, to see to my little Rudolph. But I do not believe in the need: I think you true." "Gerhardt, you are the strangest Christian that I ever knew! Do you mean what you say?" "I mean every word of it, Countess." "Then--you shall not repent it." And she turned away. Little Rudolph fretted for a time after his nurse and playfellow. But as the months passed on, her image grew fainter in his memory, and now, at seven years old, he scarcely remembered her except by name, Ermine having spoken of her to him on several occasions. "I wonder you talk of the girl to that child!" Isel remonstrated. "It were better that he should forget her." "Pardon me, Mother Isel, but I think not so. The good Lord brought her in our way, and how do I know for what purpose? It may be for Rudolph's good, no less than hers; and she promised, if need arose, to have a care of him. I cannot tell what need may arise, wherein it would be most desirable that he should at least recall her name." "But don't you see, Ermine, even on your own showing, our Lord has taken her out of your way again?" "Yes, now. But how do I know that it is for always?" "Why, child, how can Countess, a married woman, living away at Reading, do anything to help a child at Oxford?" "I don't know, Mother Isel. The Lord knows. If our paths never cross again, it will not hurt Rudolph to remember that a young Jewess named Countess was his loving friend in childhood: if they should meet hereafter, it may be very needful. And--" that dreamy look came into Ermine's eyes--"something seems to whisper to me that it may be needed. Do not blame me if I act upon it." "Well, with all your soft, gentle ways, you have a will of your own, I know," said Isel; "so you must e'en go your own way. And after September, Ermine, you'll be the only daughter left to me. Ah me! Well, it's the way of the world, and what is to be must be. I am sure it was a good wind blew you in at my door, for I should have been dreadful lonely without you when both my girls were gone." "But, dear Mother Isel, Flemild is not going far." "Not by the measuring-line, very like; but she's going far enough to be Raven's wife, and not my daughter. It makes a deal of difference, that does. And Derette's going further, after the same fashion. I sha'n't see her, maybe, again, above a dozen times in my life. Eh dear! this is a hard world for a woman to live in. It's all work, and worry, and losing, and giving up, and such like." "There is a better world," said Ermine softly.