nds which you say belong to the Abbey. God knows
the right of it, for I understand no law; but he denied it, for did
I not hear it yonder in your chamber at Blossholme? He denied it, and
accused you of treason enough to hang all Blossholme, of which again
God knows the truth. You threatened him in your anger, but he and his
servant were armed and won out, and next day the two of them rode for
London with certain papers. Well, that night Sir John Foterell was
killed in the forest, though his servant Stokes escaped with the papers.
Now, who killed him?"

The Abbot looked at him, then seemed to take a sudden resolution.

"Our people, those men-at-arms whom I have gathered for the defence of
our House and the Church. My orders to them were to seize him living,
but the old English bull would not yield, and fought so fiercely that it
ended otherwise--to my sorrow."

The monk put down his bread, for which he seemed to have no further
appetite.

"A dreadful deed," he said, "for which one day you must answer to God
and man."

"For which we all must answer," corrected the Abbot, "down to the last
lay-brother and soldier--you as much as any of us, Brother, for were you
not present at our quarrel?"

"So be it, Abbot. Being innocent, I am ready. But that is not the end
of it. The Lady Cicely, on hearing of this murder--nay, be not wrath,
I know no other name for it--and learning that you claimed her as your
ward, flies to her affianced lover, Sir Christopher Harflete, and that
very day is married to him by the parish priest in yonder church."

"It was no marriage. Due notice had not been given. Moreover, how could
my ward be wed without my leave?"

"She had not been served with notice of your wardship, if such exists,
or so she declared," replied Martin in his quiet, obstinate voice.
"I think that there is no court in Europe which would void this open
marriage when it learned that the parties lived a while as man and wife,
and were so received by those about them--no, not the Pope himself."

"He who says that he is no lawyer still sets out the law," broke in
Maldon sarcastically. "Well, what does it matter, seeing that death has
voided it? Husband and wife, if such they were, are both dead; it is
finished."

"No; for now they lay their appeal in the Court of Heaven, to which
every one of us is summoned; and Heaven can stir up its ministers on
earth. Oh! I like it not, I like it not; and I mourn for those two, so
loving,