then
Margaret dashed back to her footstool, as if she too had not a minute to
lose.

"You know, Aunt Marjory, I could not tell you the next thing with Eva
listening. They said that it was by traitorous letters from my fair
father that the Prince of Wales had caused Sir William de Braose to be
hung."

"Eva's father, thou meanest?"

"Yes. Then they accused him of administering poison to my Lord of
Salisbury, of sending my cousin Sir Raymond to try and force the Lady of
Salisbury into marrying him while her lord was beyond seas, of poisoning
my Lord of Pembroke, Sir Fulk de Breaut, and my sometime Lord of
Canterbury's Grace. He might have spent his life in poisoning every
body! Then, lastly, they said he had obtained favour of the Lord King
by help of the black art."

Marjory smiled contemptuously. It was not because she was more free
from superstition than other people, but simply because she knew full
well that the only sorcery necessary to be used towards Henry the Third
was "the sorcery of a strong mind over a weak one." [Note 1.]

"It was rather unfortunate," she said, "that my good Lord of Salisbury
(whom God rest!) was seized with his last illness the very day after he
had supped at my fair brother's table."

"Aunt Marjory!" cried her indignant niece. "Why, it is not a month
since I was taken ill in the night, after I had supped likewise. Do you
suppose he poisoned me?"

"It is quite possible that walnuts might have something to do with it,
Magot. But did I say he poisoned any one?"

"Now, Aunt Marjory, you are laughing at me, because you know I like
them. But don't you think it is absurd--the way in which people insist
on fancying themselves poisoned whenever they are ill? It looks as if
every human being were a monster of wickedness!"

"What would Father Warner say they are, Magot?"

"Oh, he would say it was perfectly true: and he would be right--so far
as my Lord of Winchester and a few more are concerned.--Well, Eva, hast
thou found Marie?"

"Yes, my dear. She is with the Lady, and she is busy with the
tapestry."

"Oh, that is right! I am sorry I forgot."

"And the Lady bade me tell thee, _mignonne_, that she is coming to thy
bower shortly, with a pedlar who is waiting in the court, to choose
stuffs for thy Whitsuntide robes."

"A pedlar! Delightful! Aunt Marjory, I am sure you want something?"

Marjory laughed. "I want thy tale finished, Magot, before the pedlar
comes."

"