red,
`Less of self, and more of Thee!'

"Higher than the highest heaven,
Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lord, Thy love at last hast conquered:
Grant me now my heart's desire--
`None of self, and all of Thee!'"

PART ONE, CHAPTER 1.

WHEREIN DAME CICELY DE CHAUCOMBE SCRIBETH SOOTHLINESS (1360).

WHEREIN COMMENCE THE ANNALS OF CICELY.

"Heaven does with us, as we with torches do--
Not light them for themselves."

Shakespeare.

"It is of no use, Jack," quoth I. "I never did love her, I never can,
and never shall."

"And I never bade you, Sissot," answered he. "Put that in belike,
prithee."

"But you bade me write the story out," said I. "Ay, I did so. But I
left you free to speak your mind of any body that should come therein,
from a bishop to a baa-lamb," said he.

"Where shall I go for mine ink?" I made answer: "seeing that some part
of my tale, to correspond to the matter, should need to be writ in
vernage, [Note 1] and some other in verjuice."

"Keep two quills by you," saith he, "with inkhorns of the twain, and use
either according to the matter."

"Ay me!" said I. "It should be the strangest and woefullest tale ever
writ by woman."

"The more need that it should be writ," quoth Jack, "by them that have
lived it, and can tell the sooth-fastness [truth] thereof. Look you,
Sissot, there are men enough will tell the tale of hearsay, such as they
may win of one and another, and that is like to be full of guile and
contrariousness. And many will tell it to win favour of those in high
place, and so shall but the half be told. Thou hast lived through it,
and wist all the inwards thereof, at least from thine own standing-spot.
Let there be one tale told just as it was, of one that verily knew, and
had no purpose to win gold or favour, but only to speak sooth-fastness."

"You set me an hard task, Jack!" I said, and I think I sighed.

"Easier to do, maybe, than to reckon on," saith he, in his dry,
tholemode [Note 2] way. "Thou needest write but one word at once, and
thou canst take thine own time to think what word to write."

"But I have no parchment," said I. I am a little afraid I coveted not
any, for I fancied not the business at all. It was Jack who wanted the
story writ out fair, not I.

"Well, I have," saith Jack calmly.

"Nor any quills," said I.

"I have," saith Jack, after the same fashion.

"And the ink is dried-up."

"Then will we buy more."

"But--"