await her, and soon found that she was not
far wrong. Father Warner took her into the empty chapel, and required
her to repeat the Creed (which of course she could not do), to tell him
which were the seven deadly sins, and what the five commandments of the
Church. Belasez had never heard of any of them. Warner shook his head
sternly, and wondered what Brother Bruno could possibly mean by
presenting this ignorant heathen as a fit candidate for baptism.

Belasez felt as if God and man alike would have none of her. Warner
recommended her to put herself under the tuition of some priest at
Norwich--which was to her a complete impossibility--and perhaps in a
year or thereabouts, if she were diligent and obedient in following the
orders of her director, she might hope to receive the grace of holy
baptism.

She went out sobbing, and encountered Bruno at the head of the stairs.

"O Father Bruno!" faltered the girl. "Father Warner will not do it!"

"I was afraid so," said Bruno, sadly. "I should not have thought of
asking him had my Brother Nicholas been at home. Well, daughter, this
is no fault of thine. Remember, we baptise only with water: but He
whose ministers we are can baptise thee with the Holy Ghost and with
fire. Let Him be thy Shepherd to provide for thee; thy Priest to
absolve thee; thy King to command thine heart's allegiance. So dwell
thou to Him in this world now, that hereafter thou mayest dwell with Him
for ever."

Belasez stooped and kissed his hand. He gave her his blessing in
fervent tones, bade her a farewell which gave him unmistakable pain, and
let her depart. Belasez drew her veil closely over her face, and joined
Delecresse and her father's old friend Hamon in the hall.

"What a time thou hast been!" said Delecresse, discontentedly. "Do let
us go now. I want to be outside this accursed Castle."

But to Belasez it seemed like stepping out of the sunlit fold into the
dreary wilderness beyond.

As they passed the upper end of the hall, Belasez paused for an instant
to make a last reverence to Margaret, who sat there talking with her
unacknowledged husband, Sir Richard de Clare. The black scowl on the
face of her brother drew her attention at once.

"Who is that young Gentile?" he demanded.

"Sir Richard de Clare, Lord of Gloucester."

"What hast thou against him?" asked old Hamon.

"That is the youth that threw my cap into a pool, a year ago, and called
me a Jew cur," said Delec