Hall and summon Jeffrey Stokes.
Emlyn will know where to find him."

"Emlyn!" groaned the Abbot. "Give me not over to Emlyn. She'd torture
me."

"Nay," said Christopher, "this is not Blossholme Abbey; though what may
chance in London I know not. Go now, Wife."

But Cicely did not stir; she only stared at the wretched creature at her
feet.

"I bid you go," repeated Christopher.

"And I'll not obey," she answered. "Do you remember what I promised
Martin ere he died?"

"Martin dead! Is Martin, who saved your husband, dead?" exclaimed the
Abbot, lifting his face and letting it fall again. "Happy Martin, to be
dead."

"I was not there, and I am not bound by your promises, Cicely."

"But I am, and you and I are one. I vowed mercy to this man if he should
fall into our power, and mercy he shall have."

"Then you spare him to destroy us. The wheels go round quick in England,
Wife."

"So be it. What I vowed, I vowed. With God be the rest. He has watched
us well heretofore, and I think," she added, with one of her bursts of
triumphant faith, "will do so to the end. Abbot Maldon, sinful, fallen
Abbot Maldon, you are as you were made, and Martin, the saint, said that
there is good in your heart, though you have shown none of it to me or
mine. Now, look you; yonder is a wooden summer-house, thatched and warm.
Get you there, and I'll send you food and wine and new clothing by one
who will not talk; also a pass to Lincoln. By to-morrow's dawn you will
be refreshed, and then you will find a good horse tied to yonder tree,
and so away to sanctuary at Lincoln, and, if aught of ill befalls you
afterwards, know it is not our doing, but that of some other enemy, or
of God, with Whom I pray you make your peace. May He forgive you, as
I do, Who knows all hearts, which I do not. Now, farewell. Nay, say
nothing. There is nothing to be said. Come, Christopher, for this once
you obey me, not I you."

So they went, and the wretched man raised himself upon his hands and
looked after them, but what passed in his heart at that moment none will
ever learn.

Some months had gone by and Blossholme, with all the country round,
was once more at peace. The tide of trouble had rolled away northward,
whence came rumours of renewed rebellion. Abbot Maldon had been seen
no more, and for a while it was believed that although he never took
sanctuary at Lincoln, he had done a wiser thing and fled to Spain. Then
Emlyn, who heard everything, g