ed errand; she was sure to wait till his return, as he knew. Sir
Godfrey growled again inaudibly, and went on to meet his fate in the
form of Perrote.

"Sir, I would speak with you."

Sir Godfrey gave an irritable grunt.

"Sir, the day of our Lord's birth is very nigh, when men be wont to make
up old quarrels in peace. Will you not yet once entreat of my Lord
Duke, being in England, to pay one visit to his dying mother?"

"I wis not that she is dying. Folks commonly take less time over their
dying than thus."

Perrote, as it were, waved away the manner of the answer, and replied
only to the matter.

"Sir, she is dying, albeit very slowly. My Lady may linger divers weeks
yet. Will you not send to my Lord?"

"I did send to him," snapped Sir Godfrey.

"And he cometh?" said Perrote, eagerly for her.

"No." Sir Godfrey tried to pass her with that monosyllable, but Perrote
was not to be thus baffled. She laid a detaining hand upon his arm.

"Sir, I pray you, for our Lord's love, to tell me what word came back
from my Lord Duke?"

Our Lord's love was not a potent factor in Sir Godfrey's soul. More
powerful were those pleading human eyes--and yet more, the sentiment
which swayed the unjust judge--"Because this widow troubleth me, I will
avenge her." He turned back.

"Must you needs wit? Then take it: it shall do you little pleasure. My
Lord writ that he was busily concerned touching the troubles in
Brittany, and ill at ease anentis my Lady Duchess, that is besieged in
the Castle of Auray, and he could not spare time to go a visiting;
beside which, it might be taken ill of King Edward, whose favour at this
present is of high import unto him, sith without his help he is like to
lose his duchy. So there ends the matter. No man can look for a prince
to risk the loss of his dominions but to pleasure an old dame."

"One only, Sir, it may be, is like to look for it; and were I my Lord
Duke, I should be a little concerned touching another matter--the
account that he shall give in to that One at the last day. In the
golden balances of Heaven I count a dying mother's yearning may weigh
heavy, and the risk of loss of worldly dominion may be very light. I
thank you, Sir. Good-night. May God not say one day to my Lord Duke,
`Thou fool!'"

Perrote disappeared, but Sir Godfrey Foljambe stood where she had left
him. Over his pleasure-chilled, gold-hardened conscience a breath from
Heaven was sweeping, such a