r Eloy. The priest won clean away over
the wall; only Mark saith that Colle hath a piece of his hose for a
remembrance. Sir Roland and Ivo were taken, and be lodged in the
dungeon."

"Poor fools!" said the Countess again. "O Perrote, Perrote, to be
free!"

"Dear my Lady, should it be better with you than now?"

"What wist thou? To have the right to go right or left, as man would;
to pluck the flowerets by the roadside at will; to throw man upon the
grass, and breathe the free air; to speak with whom man would; to feel
the heaving of the salt sea under man's boat, and to hear the clash of
arms and see the chargers and the swords and the nodding plumes file out
of the postern--O Perrote, Perrote!"

"Mine own dear mistress, would I might compass it for you!"

"I know thou dost. And thou canst not. But wherefore doth not God
compass it? Can He not do what He will? Be wrong and cruelty and
injustice what He would? Doth He hate me, that He leaveth me thus to
live and die like a rat in a hole? And wherefore? What have I done? I
am no worser sinner than thousands of other men and women. I never
stole, nor murdered, nor sware falsely; I was true woman to God and to
my lord, and true mother to the lad that they keep from me; ay, and true
friend to Lord Edward the King, that cares not a brass nail whether I
live or die--only that if I died he would be quit of a burden. Holy
saints, but I would full willingly quit him of it! God! when I ask Thee
for nought costlier than death, canst Thou not grant it to me?"

She looked like an inspired prophetess, that tall white-haired woman,
lifting her face up to the morning sun, as if addressing through it the
Eternal Light, and challenging the love and wisdom of His decrees.
Amphillis shrank back from her. Perrote came a little nearer.

"God is wiser than His creatures," she said.

"Words, words, Perrote! Only words. And I have heard them all
aforetime, and many a time o'er. If I could but come at Him, I'd see if
He could not tell me somewhat better."

"Ay," said Perrote, with a sigh; "if we could all but come at Him! Dear
my Lady--"

"Cross thyself, old woman, and have done. When I lack an homily
preacher, I'll send for a priest. My wimple, Phyllis. When comes Sir
Godfrey back?"

"Saturday shall be a week, Dame."

Sir Godfrey came back in a bad temper. He had been overcome at the
tournament, which in itself was not pacifying; and he was extremely
angry