l please her."

"Does she in truth? Perhaps you married her to this merchant fellow ere
he rode this morning."

"Nay, Sir John, they betrothed themselves before the altar and in
presence of his kin, no more. Moreover, if you would know, because of
your son's blood which runs between them I, after thought and prayer,
speaking in the name of the Church, swore them to this penance--that for
a year from yesterday they should not wed nor play the part of lovers."

"I thank you, priest, for this small grace," answered Sir John, with
a bitter laugh, "and in my turn I swear this, that after the year they
shall not wed, since the one of them will be clay and the other the wife
of the man whom I have chosen. Now, play no tricks on me, lest I burn
this sanctuary of yours about your head and throw your old carcass to
roast among the flames."

Sir Andrew made no reply, only, resting his long sword on the threshold,
he leant upon its hilt, and fixed his clear grey eyes upon Clavering's
face. What Sir John saw in those eyes he never told, but it was
something which scared him. At least that shortening of the breath of
which he had spoken seemed to take a hold of him, for he swayed upon his
horse as though he were about to fall, then, recovering, turned and rode
straight for Blythburgh.

It was the second night after that day when Sir Andrew had looked John
Clavering in the eyes.

Secretly and in darkness those three whom Grey Dick had killed were
borne into the nave of Blythburgh church and there laid in the grave
which had been made ready for them. Till now their corpses had been kept
above ground in the hope that the body of John Clavering the younger
might be added to their number. But search as they would upon seashore
and river-bank, nothing of him was ever seen again. This funeral was
celebrated in the darkness, since neither Sir John nor Acour desired
that all men should see three bodies that had been slain by one archer,
aided by a merchant's lad, standing alone against a score, and know, to
say naught of the wounded, that there was yet another to be added to
the tale. Therefore they interred them by night with no notice of the
ceremony.

It was a melancholy scene. The nave of the great church, lighted only
with the torches borne by the six monks of the black Augustines from the
neighbouring priory of St. Osyth; the candles, little stars of light,
burning far away upon the altar; the bearers of the household of the