God knows how, though I thought for long that would be
his end, who ever spoke his mind, or more; and you with your wealth are
the morsel that tempts Maldon's appetite. And now what is to be done?
This is a hard case. Would you refuge in some other Nunnery?"

"Nay," answered Cicely, glancing sideways at her lover.

"Then what's to be done?"

"Oh! I know not," she said, bursting into a fit of weeping. "How can
I tell you, who am mazed with grief and doubt? I had but a single
friend--my father, though at times he was a rough one. Yet he loved me
in his way, and I have obeyed his last counsel;" and, all her courage
gone, she sank into a chair and rocked herself to and fro, her head
resting on her hands.

"That is not true," said Emlyn in her bold voice. "Am I who suckled you
no friend, and is Father Necton here no friend, and is Sir Christopher
no friend? Well, if you have lost your judgment, I have kept mine, and
here it is. Yonder, not two bowshots away, stands a church, and before
me I see a priest and a pair who would serve for bride and bridegroom.
Also we can rake up witnesses and a cup of wine to drink your health;
and after that let the Abbot of Blossholme do his worst. What say you,
Sir Christopher?"

"You know my mind, Nurse Emlyn; but what says Cicely? Oh! Cicely, what
say _you_?" and he bent over her.

She raised herself, still weeping, and, throwing her arms about his
neck, laid her head upon his shoulder.

"I think it is the will of God," she whispered, "and why should I fight
against it, who am His servant?--and yours, Chris."

"And now, Father, what say you?" asked Emlyn, pointing to the pair.

"I do not think there is much to say," answered the old clergyman,
turning his head aside, "save that if it should please you to come to
the church in ten minutes' time you will find a candle on the altar, and
a priest within the rails, and a clerk to hold the book. More we cannot
do at such short notice."

Then he paused for a while, and, hearing no dissent, walked down the
hall and out of the door.

Emlyn took Cicely by the hand, led her to a room that was shown to them,
and there made her ready for her bridal as best she might. She had no
fine dress in which to clothe her, nor, indeed, would there have been
time to don it. But she combed out her beautiful brown hair, and,
opening that box of Eastern jewels which were the great pride of
the Foterells--being the rarest and the most ancient in all the