jesty's advisers allowed him--and
Richard--a little rest then, before they thought it necessary to do any
thing more.

The result of the trial was to leave Father Bruno homeless. He returned
to his monastery at Lincoln, and sought the leave of his Superior to be
transferred to the Convent of the Order at Norwich. His heart still
yearned over Belasez, with a tenderness which was half of Heaven and
half of earth. Yet he knew that in all probability he would never find
it possible to cross her path. Well! let him do what he could, and
leave the rest with God. If He meant them to meet, meet they must,
though Satan and all his angels combined to bar the way.

"Wife!"

"May thy beard be shaven! I was just dropping off. Well?"

It had taken Abraham a long while to summon up his courage to make what
he felt would be to Licorice an unwelcome communication. He was rather
dismayed to find it so badly received at the first step.

"Do go on, thou weariest of old jackdaws! I'm half asleep."

"I have spoken to the child, Licorice."

"As if thou couldst not have said that half an hour ago! Well, how do
matters stand?"

"There is one person in particular whom she is sorry to leave."

"Of course there is! I saw that as plain as the barber's pole across
the street. Didn't I tell thee so? Is it some young Christian gallant,
and who is he? Blessed be the memory of Abraham our father!--why did we
ever let that girl go to Bury?"

"It is not as thou art fearing, wife. But--it is worse."

"Worse!" Licorice seemed wide awake enough now. "Why, what could there
be worse, unless she had married a Christian, or had abjured her faith?"

"Wife, this is worse. She has seen--him."

"De Malpas?" The name was almost hissed from the lips of Licorice.

"The same. It was to be, Licorice. Adonai knows why! But it is
evident they were fated to meet."

"What did the viper tell her?"

"I do not gather that he told her any thing, except that she brought a
face to his memory that he had known of old. She fancies--and so of
course does he--that it was her sister."

A low, peculiar laugh from her mother made Belasez's blood curdle as she
lay listening. There seemed so much more of the fiend in it than the
angel.

"What an ass he must be, never to guess the truth!"

"She wants to know the truth, wife. She asked me if she might not."

"Thou let it alone. I'll cook up a nice little story, that will set her
mind at rest