thony.

"No, he said no more. But I shall know him again better next time, and
he me."

* * * * *

It seemed of evil omen to the girl that she should have had such an
encounter on the day that Robin came back. Like all persons who dwell
much in the country, a world that was neither that of the flesh nor yet
of the spirit was that in which she largely moved--a world of strange
laws, and auspices, and this answering to this and that to that. It is a
state inconceivable to those who live in the noise and movement of
town--who find town-life, that is, the life in which they are most at
ease. For where men have made the earth that is trodden underfoot, and
have largely veiled the heavens themselves, it is but natural that they
should think that they have made everything, and that it is they who
rule it.

As they drew nearer Westminster then, it was with Marjorie as it had
been when they came to the Tower. The priest was busy pointing out this
or that building--the Palace towers, the Hall, the Abbey behind, and St.
Margaret's Church, as well as the smaller buildings of the Court, and
the little town that lay round about. But she listened as she listened
to the noise that came from the streets clear across the water,
attending to it, yet scarcely distinguishing one thing from another, and
forgetting each as soon as she heard it. She was thinking all the while
of Robin, and of the man whose face she had seen, of his beard and his
long throat. Well, at least, Robin was not yet a priest....

* * * * *

The boat was already nearing the King's Stairs at Westminster, when a
new event happened that for a while distracted her.

The first they saw of it was the sight of a number of men and women
running in a disorderly mob, calling out as they ran, along the
river-bank in the direction from Charing Old Cross towards Palace Yard.
They appeared excited, but not by fear; and it was plain that something
was taking place of which they wished to have a sight. As the priest
stood up in the boat in order to have a clearer sight of what lay above
the bank, three or four trumpet-calls of a peculiar melody, rang out
clear and distinct, echoed back by the walls round about, plainly
audible above the rising noise of a crowd that, it seemed, must be
gathering out of sight. The priest sat down again and his face was
merry.

"You have come on a fortunate day, mistress," he said to