so, poor lamb, she hath----"

"lady!" cried alleyne, with catching breath, "is it the lady

maude loring of whom you speak?"

"it is, in sooth."

"maude! and in a nunnery! did, then, the thought of her

father's death so move her?"

"her father!" cried the lady, smiling. "nay; maude is a good

daughter, but i think it was this young golden-haired squire of

whom i have heard who has made her turn her back upon the world."

"and i stand talking here!" cried alleyne wildly. "come, john,

come!"

rushing to his horse, he swung himself into the saddle, and was

off down the road in a rolling cloud of dust as fast as his good

steed could bear him.

great had been the rejoicing amid the romsey nuns when the lady

maude loring had craved admission into their order--for was she

not sole child and heiress of the old knight, with farms and

fiefs which she could bring to the great nunnery? long and

earnest had been the talks of the gaunt lady abbess, in which she

had conjured the young novice to turn forever from the world, and

to rest her bruised heart under the broad and peaceful shelter of

the church. and now, when all was settled, and when abbess and

lady superior had had their will, it was but fitting that some

pomp and show should mark the glad occasion. hence was it that

the good burghers of romsey were all in the streets, that gay

flags and flowers brightened the path from the nunnery to the

church, and that a long procession wound up to the old arched

door leading up the bride to these spiritual nuptials. there was

lay-sister agatha with the high gold crucifix, and the three

incense-bearers, and the two-and-twenty garbed in white, who cast

flowers upon either side of them and sang sweetly the while.

then, with four attendants, came the novice, her drooping head

wreathed with white blossoms, and, behind, the abbess and her

council of older nuns, who were already counting in their minds

whether their own bailiff could manage the farms of twynham, or

whether a reve would be needed beneath him, to draw the utmost

from these new possessions which this young novice was about to

bring them.

but alas! for plots and plans when love and youth and nature, and

above all, fortune are arrayed against them. who is this travel-

stained youth who dares to ride so madly through the lines of

staring burghers? why does he fling himself from his horae and

stare so strangely about him? see how he has rushed through the

incense-bearers, thrust aside lay-sister agatha, scattered the

two-and-twenty damosels who sang so sweetly--and he stands before

the novice with his hands out-stretched, and his face shining,

and the light of love in his gray eyes. her foot is on the very

lintel of the church, and yet he bars the way--and she, she

thinks no more of the wise words and holy rede of the lady

abbess, but she hath given a sobbing cry and hath fallen forward

with his arms around her drooping body and her wet cheek upon his

breast. a sorry sight this for the gaunt abbess, an ill lesson

too for the stainless two-and-twenty who have ever been taught

that the way of nature is the way of sin. but maude and alleyne

care little for this. a dank, cold air comes out from the black

arch before them. without, the sun shines bright and the birds

are singing amid the ivy on the drooping beeches. their choice

is made, and they turn away hand-in-hand, with their backs to the

darkness and their faces to the light.

very quiet was the wedding in the old priory church at

christchurch, where father christopher read the service, and

there were few to see save the lady loring and john, and a dozen

bowmen from the castle. the lady of twynham had drooped and

pined for weary months, so that her face was harsher and less

comely than before, yet she still hoped on, for her lord had come

through so many dangers that she could scarce believe that he

might be stricken down at last. it had been her wish to start

for spain and to search for him, but alleyne had persuaded her

to let him go in her place. there was much to look after, now

that the lands of minstead were joined to those of twynham, and

alleyne had promised her that if she would but bide with his wife

he would never come back to hampshire again until he had gained

some news, good or ill, of her lord and lover.

the yellow cog had been engaged, with goodwin hawtayne in

command, and a month after the wedding alleyne rode down to

bucklershard to see if she had come round yet from southampton.

on the way he passed the fishing village of pitt's deep, and

marked that a little creyer or brig was tacking off the land, as

though about to anchor there. on his way back, as he rode

towards the village, he saw that she had indeed anchored, and

that many boats were round her, bearing cargo to the shore.

a bow-shot from pitt'