e a thing to win, doubtless holds it light."
"Nay," said Paul, "he holds it not light; it is too heavy for him; he
knows it too well to trifle with it."

Then finding that the rest were silent, they too were silent. And so
they held broken discourse; and ever the young Knight spoke in
Margaret's ear, so that Paul was much distraught, but dared not seem
to intervene, or to speak with the maiden, when he had held aloof so
long.

Presently the Lady Beckwith said she had a boon to ask, and that she
would drop her parables. And she said that her daughter Helen, that
was sick, had been very envious of them, because she had not heard his
songs, but only a soft echo of them through the chamber floor. "And
perhaps, Sir Paul," she said, "if you will not come for friendship,
you will come for mercy; and sing to my poor child, who has but few
joys, a song or twain." Then Paul's heart danced within him, and he
said, "I will come to-morrow." And soon after that the Duke went out
and the guests dispersed; and then Paul greeted the Lady Margaret, and
said a few words to her; but he could not please himself in what he
said; and that night he slept little, partly for thinking of what he
might have said: but still more for thinking that he would see her on
the morrow.

So when the morning came, Paul went very swiftly through the forest
to the Isle of Thorns. It was now turning fast to winter, and the
trees had shed their leaves. The forest was all soft and brown, and
the sky was a pearly grey sheet of high cloud; but a joy as of spring
was in Paul's heart, and he smiled and sang as he went, though he fell
at times into sudden silences of wonder and delight. When he arrived,
the Lady Beckwith greeted him very lovingly, and presently led him
into a small chamber that seemed to be an oratory. Here was a little
altar very seemly draped, with stools for kneeling, and a chair or
two. Near the altar, at the side, was a little door in the wall behind
a hanging; the Lady Beckwith pulled the hanging aside, and bade Paul
to follow; he found himself in a small arched recess, lit by a single
window of coloured glass, that was screened from a larger room, of
which it was a part, by a curtain. The Lady Beckwith bade Paul be
seated, and passed beyond the curtain for an instant. The room within
seemed dark, but there came from it a waft of the fragrance of
flowers; and Paul heard low voices talking together, and knew that
Margaret spake; in a moment s