he remembered now the servant's slight air of
unwillingness to let her in. There was a footfall in the hall, and the
sound of talking; and as Mr. Morris's hasty step came up the passage,
the door was pushed abruptly open, and Ralph was looking into the room,
with one or two others beyond him.

"I did not know," he began, and flushed a little, smiling and making as
if to close the door. But Cromwell's face, with its long upper lip and
close-set grey eyes, appeared over his shoulder, and Ralph turned round,
almost deprecatingly.

"I beg your pardon, sir; this is Mistress Atherton, and her woman."

Cromwell came forward into the room, with a kind of keen smile, in his
rich dress and chain.

"Mistress Beatrice Atherton?" he said with a questioning deference; and
Ralph introduced them to one another. Beatrice was conscious of a good
deal of awkwardness. It was uncomfortable to be caught here, as if she
had come to spy out something. She felt herself flushing as she
explained that she had had no idea who was there.

Cromwell looked at her very pleasantly.

"There is nothing to ask pardon for, Mistress," he said. "I knew you
were a friend of Mr. Torridon. He has told me everything."

Ralph seemed strangely ill-at-case, Beatrice thought, as Cromwell
congratulated them both with a very kindly air, and then turned towards
the hall again.

"My lord," he called, "my lord--"

Then Beatrice saw a tall ecclesiastic, clean-shaven, with a strangely
insignificant but kindly face, with square drooping lip and narrow hazel
eyes, come forward in his prelate's dress; and at the sight of him her
eyes grew hard and her lips tight.

"My lord," said Cromwell, "this is Mistress Beatrice Torridon."

The prelate put out his hand, smiling faintly, with the ring uppermost
to be kissed. Beatrice stood perfectly still. She could see Ralph at an
angle looking at her imploringly.

"You know my Lord of Canterbury," said Cromwell, in an explanatory
voice.

"I know my Lord of Canterbury," said Beatrice.

There was a dead silence for a moment, and then a faint whimper from the
maid.

Cranmer dropped his hand, but still smiled, turning to Ralph.

"We must be gone, Mr. Torridon. Master Cromwell has very kindly--"

Cromwell who had stood amazed for a moment, turned round at his name.

"Yes," he said to Ralph, "my lord is to come with me. And you will be
at my house to-morrow."

He said good-day to the girl, looking at her with an amused