hing or nothing. If it had anything to do
with a man at all, it must pervade his thoughts and his life. It was
the leaven which leavened the whole lump; the salt whose absence left
all unsavoury and insipid; the breath, which virtually was identical
with life. One mistake Father Bevis made, a very natural mistake to a
man who had been repressed, misunderstood; and disliked, as he had been
ever since he could remember--he did not realise sufficiently that
warmth was a necessity of life, and that young creatures more especially
required a certain brooding tenderness to develop their faculties. No
one had ever given him love but God; and he was too apt to suppose that
religion could be fostered only in that way which had cherished his own.
His light burned bright to Godward, but it was not sufficiently visible
to men.

Clarice La Theyn had by this time discovered that there were other
people in the household beyond those already mentioned. The Earl had
four squires of the body, and the Countess two pages in waiting, beside
a meaner crowd of dressers, sewers, porters, messengers, and all kinds
of officials. The squires and the pages were the only ones who came
much in contact with the bower-maidens.

Both the pages were boys of about fifteen, of whom Osbert was quiet and
sedate for a boy, while Jordan was _espiegle_ and full of mischievous
tricks. The squires demand longer notice.

Reginald de Echingham was the first to attract Clarice's notice--a fact
which, in Reginald's eyes, would only have been natural and proper. He
was a handsome young man, and no one was better aware of it than
himself. His principal virtue lay in a silky moustache, which he
perpetually caressed. The Earl called him Narcissus, and he deserved
it.

Next came Fulk de Chaucombe, who was about as careless of his personal
appearance as Reginald was careful. He looked on his brother squire
with ineffable disdain, as a man only fit to hunt out rhymes for
sonnets, and hold skeins of silk for ladies. Call him a man! thought
Master Fulk, with supreme contempt. Fulk's notion of manly occupations
centred in war, with an occasional tournament by way of dessert.

Third on the list was Vivian Barkworth. To Clarice, at least, he was a
perplexity. He was so chameleon-like that she could not make up her
mind about him. He could be extremely attractive when he liked, and he
could be just as repellent.

Least frequently of any were her thoughts g