he baluster above
him. "Or did ill men set on thee?"

"That's the nearest guess," said Stephen. "'Twas that tall father of
mine aunt's, the fellow that came here for armour, and bought poor
Master Michael's sword."

"And sliced the apple on thine hand. Ay?"

"He would have me for one of his Badgers."

"Thee! Stephen!" It was a cry of pain as well as horror.

"Yea, mistress; and when I refused, the fellow dealt me a blow, and laid
me down senseless, to bear me off willy nilly, but that good old Lucas
Hansen brought mine uncle to mine aid--"

Dennet clasped her hands. "O Stephen, Stephen! Now I know how good the
Lord is. Wot ye, I asked of Tibble to take me daily to Saint Faith's to
crave of good Saint Julian to have you all in his keeping, and saith he
on the way, `Methinks, mistress, our dear Lord would hear you if you
spake to Him direct, with no go-between.' I did as he bade me, Stephen,
I went to the high Altar, and prayed there, and Tibble went with me, and
lo, now, He hath brought you back safe. We will have a mass of
thanksgiving on the very morn."

Stephen's heart could not but bound, for it was plain enough for whom
the chief force of these prayers had been offered.

"Sweet mistress," he said, "they have availed me indeed. Certes, they
warded me in the time of sore trial and temptation."

"Nay," said Dennet, "thou _couldst_ not have longed to go away from
hence with those ill men who live by slaying and plundering?"

The present temptation was to say that he had doubted whether this
course would not have been for the best both for himself and for her;
but he recollected that Giles might be at the gate, and if so, he should
feel as if he had rather have bitten out his tongue than have let Dennet
know the state of the case, so he only answered--

"There be sorer temptations in the world for us poor rogues than little
home-biding house crickets like thee wot of, mistress. Well that ye can
pray for us without knowing all!"

Stephen had never consciously come so near lovemaking, and his honest
face was all one burning glow with the suppressed feeling, while Dennet
lingered till the curfew warned them of the lateness of the hour, both
with a strange sense of undefined pleasure in the being together in the
summer twilight.

Day after day passed on with no news of Giles or Will Wherry. The
alderman grew uneasy, and sent Stephen to ask his brother to write to
Randall, or to some one else in W