Matilda and her nuns must be kept till we can endow them with their
lands again. One day we, or our boy yonder, may be rich, but till it
comes there are hard times for all of us."

"Not so hard as some we have known, Husband," she answered, laughing,
"for at least we are free and have food to eat, and for the rest we will
borrow from Jacob Smith on the jewels that remain over. Indeed, I have
written to him and he will not refuse."

"Aye, but how about Thomas and Emlyn?"

"They must do as their betters do. Though there is little stock on it,
Thomas has the Manor Farm at low rent, which he may pay when he can,
while Jacob put a present in the pocket of Emlyn's wedding dress. What's
more, I think he will make her his heir, and if so she will be rich
indeed, so rich that I shall have to curtsey to her. Now, go make ready
for this marriage, and as you have no fine doublet, bid Jeffrey put on
your mail, for you look best in that, or so at least I think, who to my
mind look best in anything you chance to wear."

Then while he demurred, saying that there was now no need to bear arms
in Blossholme, also that Jeffrey was away settling himself as landlord
of the Ford Inn, the same that the Abbot had once promised to Flounder
Megges, she kissed him, and seizing her boy, who lay crowing in the
sunlight, danced with him from the room. For oh, Cicely's heart was
merry.

There were many folk at the marriage of Emlyn Stower and Thomas Bolle,
for of late Blossholme had been but a sorry place, and this wedding came
to it like the breath of spring to the woods and meads around, a hint
of happiness after the miseries of winter. The story of the pair had got
about also. How they had been pledged in youth and separated by scheming
men for their own purposes. How Emlyn had been married off against her
will to an aged partner whom she hated, and Thomas, who was set down as
a fool, forced to serve the monastery as a lay-brother, a strong hind
skilled in the management of cattle and such matters, but half crazy, as
indeed it had suited him to feign himself to be.

People knew the end of the thing also; that Emlyn had cursed the Abbot,
and that her curse had been fulfilled. That Thomas Bolle had shaken off
his superstitious fears and risen up against him and at last been given
the commission of the King, and, as his Grace's officer, shown himself
no fool but a man of mettle who had taken the Abbey by storm and
rescued Sir Christopher Har