w poor Cicely remembered that her father had spoken of certain "deeds"
which he must take with him, and began to sob.

"Weep not, darling," said her foster-mother, smoothing Cicely's brown
hair with her strong hand. "These things are decreed of God, and done
with. Now you must look to yourself. Your father is gone, but one
remains."

Cicely lifted her tear-stained face.

"Yes, I have you," she said.

"Me!" she answered, with a quick smile. "Nay, of what use am I? Your
nursing days are over. What did you tell me your father said to you
before he rode--about Sir Christopher? Hush! there's no time to talk;
you must away to Cranwell Towers."

"Why?" asked Cicely. "He cannot bring my father back to life, and it
would be thought strange indeed that at such a time I should visit a man
in his own house. Send and tell him the tidings. I bide here to bury my
father, and," she added proudly, "to avenge him."

"If so, sweet, you bide here to be buried yourself in yonder Nunnery.
Hark, I have not told you all my news. The Abbot Maldon claims the
Blossholme lands under some trick of law. It was as to them that your
father quarrelled with him the other night; and with the land goes your
wardship, as once mine went under this monk's charter. Before sunset the
Abbot rides here with his men-at-arms to take them, and to set you for
safe-keeping in the Nunnery, where you will find a husband called Holy
Church."

"Name of God! is it so?" said Cicely, springing up; "and the most of the
men are away! I cannot hold the Hall against that foreign Abbot and his
hirelings, and an orphaned heiress is but a chattel to be sold. Oh!
now I understand what my father meant. Order horses. I'll off to
Christopher. Yet, stay, Nurse. What will he do with me? It may seem
shameless, and will vex him."

"I think he will marry you. I think to-night you will be a wife. If not,
I'll know the reason why," she added viciously.

"A wife! To-night!" exclaimed the girl, turning crimson to her hair.
"And my father but just dead! How can it be?"

"We'll talk of that with Harflete. Mayhap, like you, he'll wish to wait
and ask the banns, or to lay the case before a London lawyer. Meanwhile,
I have ordered horses and sent a message to the Abbot to say you come
to learn the meaning of these rumours, which will keep him still till
nightfall; and another to Cranwell Towers, that we may find food and
lodging there. Quick, now, and get your cloak and hood. I have the