lf to you, body and soul, would I not?
Well, who came between us and spoiled our lives?"

"The monks," groaned Thomas; "the accursed monks, who married you to
Stower because he paid them."

"Yes, the accursed monks. And now our youth has gone, and love--of that
sort--is behind us. I have been another man's wife, Thomas, who might
have been yours. Think of it--your loving wife, the mother of your
children. And you--they have tamed you and made you their servant, their
cattle-herd, the strong fellow to fetch and carry, the half-wit, as they
call you, who can still be trusted to run an errand and hold his tongue,
the Abbey mule that does not dare to kick, the grieve of your own stolen
lands--you, whose father was almost a gentleman. That's what they have
done for you, Thomas; and for me, the Church's ward--well, I will not
speak of it. Now, if you had your will, what would you do for them?"

"Do for them? Do for them?" gasped Thomas, worked up to fury by this
recital of his wrongs. "Why, if I dared I'd cut their throats, every
one, and grallock them like deer," and he ground his strong white teeth.
"But I am afraid. They have my soul, and month by month I must confess.
You remember, Emlyn, I warned you when you and the lady would have
ridden to London before the siege. Well, afterward--I must confess
it--the Abbot heard it himself, and oh! sore, sore was my penance.
Before I had done with it my ribs showed through my skin and my back
was like a red osier basket. There's only one thing I didn't tell them,
because, after all, it is no sin to grub the earth off the face of a
corpse."

"Ah!" said Emlyn, looking at him. "You're not to be trusted. Well, I
thought as much. Good-bye, Thomas Bolle, you coward. I'll find me a man
for a friend, not a whimpering, priest-ridden hound who sets a Latin
blessing which he does not understand above his honour. God in heaven!
to think I should ever have loved such a thing. Oh! I am shamed, I am
shamed. I'll go wash my hands. Shut your trap and get you gone down your
rat-run, Thomas Bolle, and, living or dead, never dare to speak to
me again. Also forget not to tell your monks how I called you to my
side--for that's witchcraft, you know, and I shall burn for it, and your
soul gain benefit. God in heaven! to think that once you were Thomas
Bolle," and she made as though to go away.

He stretched out his great arm and caught her by the robe, exclaiming--

"What would you have me do, Emlyn