her brain has been gone for
years. Ward Cicely, I greet you, though after the sorrows that have
fallen on you, whereof by your leave we will not speak, since there is
no use in stirring up such memories, I grieve to see you in that worldly
garb, who thought you would have changed it for a better. But ere you
entered the holy Mother here spoke of some obstacle that stood between
you and God. What is it? Perchance my counsel may be of service. Not
this woman, as I trust," and he frowned at Emlyn, who at once answered,
in her steady voice--

"Nay, my Lord Abbot, I stand not between her and God and His holiness,
but between her and man and his iniquity. Still I can tell you of that
obstacle--which comes from God--if you so need."

Now the old Prioress, blushing to her white hair, bent forward and
whispered in the Abbot's ear words at which he sprang up as though a
wasp had stung him.

"Pest on it! it cannot be," he said. "Well, well, there it is, and must
be swallowed with the rest. Pity, though," he added, with a sneer on his
dark face, "since many a year has gone by since these walls have seen a
bastard, and, as things are, that may pull them down about your ears."

"I know such brats are dangerous," interrupted Emlyn, looking Maldon
full in the eyes; "my father told me of a young monk in Spain--I forget
his name--who brought certain ladies to the torture in some such matter.
But who talks of bastards in the case of Dame Cicely Harflete, widow of
Sir Christopher Harflete, slain by the Abbot of Blossholme?"

"Silence, woman. Where there is no lawful marriage there can be no
lawful child----"

"To take that lawful inheritance that it lawfully inherits. Say, my Lord
Abbot, did Sir Christopher make you his heir also?"

Then, before he could answer, Cicely, who had been silent all this
while, broke in--

"Heap what insults you will on me, my Lord Abbot, and having robbed me
of my father, my husband, and my heart, rob me of my goods also, if
you can. In my case it matters little. But slander not my child, if one
should be born to me, nor dare to touch its rights. Think not that you
can break the mother as you broke the girl, for there you will find that
you have a she-wolf by the ear."

He looked at her, they all looked at her, for in her eyes was something
that compelled theirs. Clement Maldon, who knew the world and how a
she-wolf can fight for its cub, read in them a warning which caused him
to change his tone.