ood were back," he answered in a deep
voice; "but if you want my name, it's Thomas Bolle, cattle-reeve to the
Abbey yonder."

"Your voice proves you," said Christopher, laughing. "And now what is
your business, lay-brother Bolle?"

"To get up a bunch of yearling steers that have been running on the
forest-edge, living, like the rest of us, on what they can find, as the
weather is coming on hard enough to starve them. That's my business, Sir
Christopher. But as I see an old friend of mine there," and he nodded
towards Emlyn, who was watching him from her horse, "with your leave
I'll ask her if she has any confession to make, since she seems to be on
a dangerous journey."

Now Christopher made as though he would push on, for he was in no mood
to chat with cattle-reeves. But Emlyn, who had been eyeing the man,
called out--

"Come here, Thomas, and I will answer you myself, who always have a few
sins to spare for a priest's wallet, and need a blessing or two to warm
me."

He strode forward, and, taking her horse by the bridle, led it a little
way apart, and as soon as they were out of earshot fell into an eager
conversation with its rider. A minute or so later Cicely, looking
round--for they had ridden forward at a slow pace--saw Thomas Bolle
leap through the other fence of the roadway and vanish at a run into the
falling snow, while Emlyn spurred her horse after them.

"Stop," she said to Christopher; "I have tidings for you. The Abbot,
with all his men-at-arms and servants, to the number of forty or more,
waits for us under shelter of Blossholme Grove yonder, purposing to take
the Lady Cicely by force. Some spy has told him of this journey."

"I see no one," said Christopher, staring at the Grove, which lay below
them about a quarter of a mile away, for they were on the top of a rise.
"Still, the matter is not hard to prove," and he called to the two best
mounted of his men and bade them ride forward and make report if any
lurked behind that wood.

So the men went off, while they remained where they were, silent, but
anxious enough. Ten minutes or so later, before they could see them, for
the snow was now falling quickly, they heard the sound of many horses
galloping. Then the two men appeared, calling out as they came--

"The Abbot and all his folk are after us. Back to Cranwell, ere you be
taken!"

Christopher thought for a moment, then, remembering that with but four
men and cumbered by two women it was no