t not ill, man; I was angered, and have
cause to be."

"The anger I see, but not the cause, though, as a monk came from the
Abbey but now, perhaps I can hazard a guess."

"Aye, that's it, that's it, Jeffrey. Hark; I ride to yonder
crows'-nest, and at once. Saddle me a horse."

"Good, master. I'll saddle two horses."

"Two? I said one. Fool, can I ride a pair at once, like a mountebank?"

"I know not, but you can ride one and I another. When the Abbot of
Blossholme visits Sir John Foterell of Shefton he comes with hawk on
wrist, with chaplains and pages, and ten stout men-at-arms, of whom he
keeps more of late than a priest would seem to need about him. When Sir
John Foterell visits the Abbot of Blossholme, at least he should have
one serving-man at his back to hold his nag and bear him witness."

Sir John looked at him shrewdly.

"I called you fool," he said, "but you are none except in looks. Do as
you will, Jeffrey, but be swift. Stop. Where is my daughter?"

"The Lady Cicely sits in her parlour. I saw her sweet face at the window
but now staring out at the snow as though she thought to see a ghost in
it."

"Um," grunted Sir John, "the ghost she thinks to see rides a grand grey
mare, stands over six feet high, has a jolly face, and a pair of arms
well made for sword and shield, or to clip a girl in. Yet that ghost
must be laid, Jeffrey."

"Pity if so, master. Moreover, you may find it hard. Ghost-laying is a
priest's job, and when maids' waists are willing, men's arms reach far."

"Be off, sirrah," roared Sir John, and Jeffrey went.

Ten minutes later they were riding for the Abbey, three miles away,
and within half-an-hour Sir John was knocking, not gently, at its gate,
while the monks within ran to and fro like startled ants, for the times
were rough, and they were not sure who threatened them. When they knew
their visitor at last they set to work to unbar the great doors and let
down the drawbridge, that had been hoist up at sunset.

Presently Sir John stood in the Abbot's chamber, warming himself at the
great fire, and behind him stood his serving-man, Jeffrey, carrying his
long cloak. It was a fine room, with a noble roof of carved chestnut
wood and stone walls hung with costly tapestry, whereon were worked
scenes from the Scriptures. The floor was hid with rich carpets made of
coloured Eastern wools. The furniture also was rich and foreign-looking,
being inlaid with ivory and silver, while on the