to the barrow and next to the chancel
window. At length Mother Matilda understood and, climbing on to the
barrow, looked through the window as Bridget had done. She looked, she
saw, and fell back fainting.

An hour had gone by. The child, unhurt save for a little bruising of
its tender mouth, was asleep upon its mother's breast. Bridget, having
recovered, at length had told all her tale to every one of them save
Cicely, who as yet knew nothing, for she and Emlyn did not hear the
screams, their rooms being on the other side of the building. The Abbot
had been sent for, and, accompanied by monks, arrived in the midst of
a thunder-storm and pouring rain. He, too, had heard the tale, heard it
with a pale face while his monks crossed themselves. At length he asked
of the woman Megges. They replied that living or dead she was, as they
supposed, still in the chapel, which none of them had dared to enter.

"Come, let us see," said the Abbot, and they went there to find the door
locked as Bridget had said.

Smiths were sent for and broke it in while all stood in the pouring
rain and watched. It was open at last, and they entered with torches
and tapers, for now the darkness was dense, the Abbot leading them. They
came to the chancel, where something lay upon the floor, and held down
the torches to look. Then they saw that which caused them all to turn
and fly, calling on the saints to protect them. In her life Mother
Megges had not been lovely, but in the death that had overtaken her----!

It was morning. The Lord Abbot and his monks were assembled in the
guest-chamber, and opposite to them were the Lady Prioress and her nuns,
and with them Emlyn.

"Witchcraft!" shouted the Abbot, smiting his fist upon the table, "black
witchcraft! Satan himself and his foulest demons walk the countryside
and have their home in this Nunnery. Last night they manifested
themselves----"

"By saving a babe from a cruel death and bringing a hateful murderess to
doom," broke in Emlyn.

"Silence, Sorceress," shouted the Abbot. "Get thee behind me, Satan. I
know you and your familiars," and he glared at the Prioress.

"What may you mean, my Lord Abbot?" asked Mother Matilda, bridling up.
"My sisters and I do not understand. Emlyn Stower is right. Do you
call that witchcraft which works so good an end? The ghost of Sir John
Foterell appeared here--we admit it who saw that ghost. But what did
the spirit do? It slew the hellish woman whom