with sorrows there, such as we are protected from by our holy office."

"Yes," answered the sister, "but I think also that she has met with the
ghost that haunts the chapel, of which there are many records, and that
once I saw myself when I was a novice. The Prioress Matilda--I mean
the fourth of that name, she who was mixed up with Edward the Lame, the
monk, and died suddenly after the----"

"Peace, sister; let us have no scandal about that departed--woman, who
left the earth two hundred years ago. Also, if her unquiet spirit still
haunts the place, as many say, I know not why it should speak with the
voice of a man."

"Perhaps it was the monk Edward's voice that Bridget heard," replied the
sister, "for no doubt he still hangs about her skirts as he did in life,
if all tales are true. Well, Mistress Emlyn says that she does not mind
ghosts, and I can well believe it, for she is a witch's daughter, and
has a strange look in her eyes. Did you ever see such bold eyes, Mother?
However it may be, I hate ghosts, and rather would I pass a month on
bread and water than be alone in that chapel at or after sundown. My
back creeps to think of it, for they say that the unhallowed babe
walks too, and gibbers round the font seeking baptism--ugh!" and she
shuddered.

"Peace, sister, peace to your goblin talk," said Mother Matilda again.
"Let us think of holier things lest the foul fiend draw near to us."

That night, about one in the morning, the foul fiend drew very near to
Blossholme, and he came in the shape of fire. Suddenly the nuns were
aroused from their beds by the sound of bells tolling wildly. Running to
the window-places, they saw great sheets of flame leaping from the Abbey
roofs. They threw open the casements and stared out terrified. Sister
Bridget was sent even to wake the deaf gardener and his wife, who lived
in the gateway, and command them to go forth and learn what passed, and
the meaning of the shouts they heard, for they feared that Blossholme
was attacked by some army.

A long while went by, and Bridget returned with a confused tale, which,
as it had been gathered by an imbecile from a deaf gardener, was not
easy to understand. Meanwhile the shoutings went on and the fire at the
Abbey burnt ever more fiercely, so that the nuns thought that their last
hour had come, and knelt down to pray at the casement.

Just then Cicely and Emlyn appeared among them, and stared at the great
fire.

Suddenly Cicel