you sent among us and it
rescued the blessed babe when her finger was down its throat to choke
out its pure life. If that be witchcraft I stand by it. Tell us what did
the wretch mean when she cried out to the spirit to spare her because
she was poor and had been bribed for her iniquity? Who bribed her, my
Lord Abbot? None in this house, I'll swear. And who changed Sir John
Foterell from flesh to spirit? Why is he a ghost to-day?"

"Am I here to answer riddles, woman, and who are you that you dare put
such questions to me? I depose you, I set your house under ban. The
judgment of the Church shall be pronounced against you all. Dare not to
leave your doors until the Court is composed to try you. Think not you
shall escape. Your English land is sick and heresy stalks abroad; but,"
he added slowly, "fire can still bite and there is store of faggots in
the woods. Prepare your souls for judgment. Now I go."

"Do as it pleases you," answered the enraged Mother Matilda. "When you
set out your case we will answer it; but, meanwhile, we pray that you
take what is left of your dead hireling with you, for we find her ill
company and here she shall have no burial. My Lord Abbot, the charter of
this Nunnery is from the monarch of England, whatever authority you and
those that went before you have usurped. It was granted by the first
Edward, and the appointment of every prioress since his day has been
signed by the sovereign and no other. I hold mine under the manual of
the eighth Henry. You cannot depose me, for I appeal from the Abbot to
the King. Fare you well, my Lord," and, followed by her little train of
aged nuns, she swept from the room like an offended queen.

After the terrible death of the child-murderess and the restoration of
her babe to her unharmed, Cicely's recovery was swift. Within a week
she was up and walking, and within ten days as strong, or stronger, than
ever she had been. Nothing more had been heard of the Abbot, and though
all knew that danger threatened them from this quarter they were content
to enjoy the present hour of peace and wait till it was at hand.

But in Cicely's awakened mind there arose a keen desire to learn more
of what her nurse had hinted to her when she lay upon the very edge of
death. Day by day she plied Emlyn with questions till at length she
knew all; namely, that the tidings came from Thomas Bolle, and that he,
dressed in her father's armour, was the ghost who had saved her boy fro