hat dream thrice,"
and she paused.

"Go on, Cicely; I am not afraid of dreams, which are but
foolishness--coming from the stomach."

"Mayhap; yet, father, it was so plain and clear I can scarcely bear to
tell it to you. I stood in a dark place amidst black things that I knew
to be trees. Then the red dawn broke upon the snow, and I saw a little
pool with brown rushes frozen in its ice. And there--there, at the edge
of the pool, by a pollard willow with one white limb, you lay, your bare
sword in your hand and an arrow in your neck, shot from behind, while in
the trunk of the willow were other arrows, and lying near you two slain.
Then cloaked men came as though to carry them away, and I awoke. I say I
dreamed it thrice."

"A jolly good morrow indeed," said Sir John, turning a shade paler. "And
now, daughter, what do you make of this business?"

"I? Oh! I make that you should stop at home and send some one else to do
your business. Sir Christopher, for instance."

"Why, then I should baulk your dream, which is either true or false.
If true, I have no choice, it must be fulfilled; if false, why should I
heed it? Cicely, I am a plain man and take no note of such fancies. Yet
I have enemies, and it may well chance that my day is done. If so, use
your mother wit, girl; beware of Maldon, look to yourself, and as for
your mother's jewels, hide them," and he turned to go.

She clasped him by the arm.

"In that sad case what should I do, father?" she asked eagerly.

He stopped and stared at her up and down.

"I see that you believe in your dream," he said, "and therefore,
although it shall not stay a Foterell, I begin to believe in it too. In
that case you have a lover whom I have forbid to you. Yet he is a man
after my own heart, who would deal well by you. If I die, my game is
played. Set your own anew, sweet Cicely, and set it soon, ere that Abbot
is at your heels. Rough as I may have been, remember me with kindness,
and God's blessing and mine be on you. Hark! Jeffrey calls, and if they
stand, the horses will take cold. There, fare you well. Fear not for me,
I wear a chain shirt beneath my cloak. Get back to bed and warm you,"
and he kissed her on the brow, thrust her from him and was gone.

Thus did Cicely and her father part--for ever.

All that day Sir John and Jeffrey, his serving-man, trotted forward
through the snow--that is, when they were not obliged to walk because
of the depth of the drifts. Their