"I have not come to take anything, poor woman."

"You are not a priest?"

"No."

"Nor come not from the lord of the manor?"

"No, I am a stranger."

"Oh, then, for the fear of God, who visits with misery and death
such as be harmless, tarry not here, but fly! This place is under
his curse--and his Church's."

"Let me come in and help you--you are sick and in trouble."

I was better used to the dim light now. I could see her hollow
eyes fixed upon me. I could see how emaciated she was.

"I tell you the place is under the Church's ban. Save yourself
--and go, before some straggler see thee here, and report it."

"Give yourself no trouble about me; I don't care anything for the
Church's curse. Let me help you."

"Now all good spirits--if there be any such--bless thee for that
word. Would God I had a sup of water!--but hold, hold, forget
I said it, and fly; for there is that here that even he that
feareth not the Church must fear: this disease whereof we die.