alized, yet with his virility all alive in him. A phrase,
wholly inapplicable in its first sense, came irresistibly to the younger
priest's mind as he waited on him. "When the strong man, armed, keepeth
his house, his goods are in peace."

Robin heard the third mass, said by Mr. Ludlam, from a corner near the
door; and this one, too, was a fresh experience. The former priest had
resembled a strong man subdued by grace; the second, a weak man ennobled
by it. Mr. Ludlam was a delicate soul, smiling often, as has been said,
and speaking little--"a mild man," said the countryfolk. Yet, at the
altar there was no weakness in him; he was as a keen, sharp blade,
fitted as a heavy knife cannot be, for fine and peculiar work. His
father had been a yeoman, as had the other's; yet there must have been
some unusual strain of blood in him, so deft and gentle he was--more at
his ease here at God's Table than at the table of any man.... So he,
too, finished his mass, and began to unvest....

Then, with a noise as brutal as a blasphemy, there came a thunder of
footsteps on the stairs; and a man burst into the room, with glaring
eyes and rough gestures.

"There is a company of men coming up from the valley," he cried; "and
another over the moor.... And it is my lord Shrewsbury's livery."

III

In an instant all was in confusion; and the peace had fled. Mr. John was
gone; and his voice could be heard on the open stairs outside speaking
rapidly in sharp, low whispers to the men gathered beneath; and,
meanwhile, three or four servants, two men and a couple of maids,
previously drilled in their duties, were at the altar, on which Mr.
Ludlam had but that moment laid down his amice. The three priests stood
together waiting, fearing to hinder or to add to the bustle. A low
wailing rose from outside the door; and Robin looked from it to see if
there were anything he could do. But it was only a little country
servant crouching on the tiny landing that united the two sets of stairs
from the court, with her apron over her head: she must have been in the
partitioned west end of the chapel to hear the mass. He said a word to
her; and the next instant was pushed aside, as a man tore by bearing a
great bundle of stuffs--vestments and the altar cloths. When he turned
again, the chapel was become a common room once more: the chest stood
bare, with a great bowl of flowers on it; the candlesticks were gone;
and the maid was sweeping up the herbs.