here."

"They say well, knight, she has sheltered here beneath the wings of St.
Mary and St. John. Begone and leave her in peace."

"I make no more of such wings than if they were those of farmyard
geese," roared the furious man. "Bring her or I will pluck her forth."

"Do so," replied Sir Andrew, "if you live to pass this consecrated
sword," and he laid his hand upon its hilt. "Take with her also the
curse of the Mother of God, and His beloved Apostle, and that of the
whole Church of Christ, by me declared upon your head in this world and
upon your soul in the world to come. Man, this is sanctuary, and if you
dare to set foot within it in violence, may your body perish and your
soul scorch everlastingly in the fires of hell. And you," he added,
raising his voice till it rang like a trumpet, addressing the followers
of Sir John, "on you also let the curse of excommunication fall. Now
slay me and enter if you will, but then every drop of blood in these
veins shall find a separate tongue and cry out for vengeance on you
before the judgment seat of God, where presently I summon you to meet
me."

Then he crossed himself, drew the great sword, and, holding it in his
left hand, stretched out his right toward them in malediction.

The Clavering men heard and saw. They looked at each other, and, as
though by common consent, turned and rode away, crossing themselves
also. In truth, they had no stomach for the curse of the Church when it
was thundered forth from the lips of such a monk as Sir Andrew Arnold,
who, they knew well, had been one of the greatest and holiest warriors
of his generation, and, so said rumour, was a white wizard to boot with
all the magic of the East at his command.

"Your men have gone, Sir John," said the old priest; "will you follow
them or will you enter?"

Now fear drove out the knight's rage and he spoke in another voice.

"Sir Andrew, why do you bring all these wrongs upon me? My boy is dead
at the hand of Hugh de Cressi, your godson, and he has robbed me of my
daughter, whom I have affianced to a better and a nobler man. Now you
give her sanctuary and threaten me with the curse of the Church because
I would claim her, my own flesh and blood; ay, and my heiress too
to-day. Tell me, as one man to another, why do you do these things?"

"And tell me, Sir John Clavering, why for the sake of pelf and of
honours that you will never harvest do you seek to part those who love
each other and whom G