trated upon
your own petition, Madam, therefore I need not stop to make the usual
inquiries, and indeed I will admit that from all I hear it has a good
repute, for none allege scandal against you, perhaps because you are all
too old for such follies. Produce now your deeds, your terrier of lands
and your rent-rolls, that I may take them over in due form and dissolve
the sisterhood."

"I will send for them, Sir," answered the Prioress humbly; "but,
meanwhile, tell us what we poor religious are to do? I am turned sixty
years of age, and have dwelt in this house for forty of them; none of my
sisters are young, and some of them are older than myself. Whither shall
we go?"

"Into the world, Madam, which you will find a fine, large place. Cease
snuffling prayers and from all vulgar superstitions--by the way, forget
not to hand over any reliquaries of value, or any papistical emblems
in precious metals that you may possess, including images, of which my
secretaries will take account--and go out into the world. Marry there
if you can find husbands, follow useful trades there. Do what you will
there, and thank the King who frees you from the incumbrance of silly
vows and from the circle of a convent's walls."

"To give us liberty to starve outside of them. Sir, do you understand
your work? For hundreds of years we have sat at Blossholme, and during
all those generations have prayed to God for the souls of men and
ministered to their bodies. We have done no harm to any creature, and
what wealth came to us from the earth or from the benefactions of
the pious we have dispensed with a liberal hand, taking nothing for
ourselves. The poor by multitudes have fed at our gates, their sick we
have nursed, their children we have taught; often we have gone hungry
that they might be full. Now you drive us forth in our age to perish.
If that is the will of God, so be it, but what must chance to England's
poor?"

"That is England's business, Madam, and the poor's. Meanwhile I have
told you that I have no time to waste, since I must away to London to
make report concerning this Abbot of yours, a veritable rogue, of
whose villainous plots I have discovered many things. I pray you send a
messenger to bid them hurry with the deeds."

Just then a nun entered bearing a tray, on which were cakes and wine.
Emlyn took it from her, and pouring the wine into cups offered them to
the Visitor and his secretaries.

"Good wine," he said, after he had