The last words fell in solemn earnest from my aunt's lips, and struck
Ann to the heart; she confessed that she had many times said the same
things to her self, but then maiden pride had swelled up in her and had
forbidden her to lend an ear to the warning voice; and nevertheless none
had spoken so often or so loudly in her soul, so that her heart's deepest
yearning responded to what her friend had said.

"Then do its bidding," said my aunt eagerly, and I said the same; and
Ann, being not merely overruled but likewise convinced, yielded and
confessed that, even as Master Peter's wife, she could never have slain
the old love, and declared herself ready to renounce her pride and wrath.

Thus had my aunt's faithful love preserved her from sin, and gladly did I
consent to her brave spirit when she said to Ann: "You must save yourself
for that skittle-witted wight in Paris, child; for none other than he can
make you rightly happy, nor can he be happy with any other woman than my
true and faithful darling!"

Ann covered my aunt's hands with kisses, and the words flowed heartily
and glaaiy from her lips as she cried: "Yes, yes, yes! It is so! And if
he beat me and scorned me, if he fell so deep that no man would leap in
after him, I, I, would never let him sink."

And then Ann threw herself on my neck and said: "Oh, how light is my
heart once more. Ah, Margery! now, when I long to pray, I know well
enough what for."

My aunt's dim eyes had rarely shone so brightly as at this hour, and her
voice sounded clearer and firmer than it was wont when she once more
addressed us and said: "And now the old woman will finish up by telling