e there stood a wooden bowl filled with roses. Emlyn drew it
to her, and taking the roses into her hands, threw them to the floor.
Then she waited for the water to steady, saying--

"The riddle is hard; perhaps, if in truth I have such power, I shall
find its answer here." Presently, as he gazed at her, fascinated, she
breathed upon the water and stared into it for a long while. At length
she looked up, and said--

"Death or Life; that was the choice you gave me. Well, Clement
Maldonado, on behalf of myself and the Lady Cicely, and her husband Sir
Christopher, and the child that shall be born, and of God who directs
all these things, I choose--death."

There was a solemn silence. Then the Abbot rose, and said--

"Good! On your own head be it."

Again there was a silence, and, as she made no answer, he turned and
walked towards the door, leaving her still staring into the bowl.

"Good!" she repeated, as he laid his hand upon the latch. "I have told
you that I choose death, but I have not told you whose death it is I
choose. Play your game, my Lord Abbot, and I'll play mine, remembering
that God holds the stakes. Meanwhile I confirm the words I spoke in my
rage at Cranwell. Expect evil, for I see now that it shall fall on you
and all with which you have to do."

Then with a sudden movement she upset the bowl upon the table and
watched him go.

CHAPTER VIII

EMLYN CALLS HER MAN

One by one the weeks passed over the heads of Cicely and Emlyn in their
prison, and brought them neither hope nor tidings. Indeed, although they
could not see its cords, they felt that the evil net which held them was
drawing ever tighter. There were fear and pity as well as love in the
eyes of Mother Matilda when she looked at Cicely, which she did only if
she thought that no one observed her. The nuns also were afraid, though
it was clear that they knew not of what. One evening Emlyn, finding the
Prioress alone, sprang questions on her, asking what was in the wind,
and why her lady, a free woman of full age, was detained there against
her will.

The old nun's face grew secret. She answered that she did not know of
anything unusual, and that, as regarded the detention, she must obey the
commands of her spiritual superior.

"Then," burst out Emlyn, "I tell you that you do so at your peril. I
tell you that whether my lady lives or dies, there are those who will
call you to a strict account, aye, and those who will listen to the
p