esage of storm, and Sir Julian himself quiet
beyond his wont seemed to portend the calamities that were to ensue;
and after his breakfast stood at a window watching the dripping trees
and whistling so softly one could not tell whether 'twere he or the
birds chirping without. Cedric and Lady Constance played at battledore
and shuttlecock. Mistress Penwick sat apart, busy with thought and
needle. His Grace of Ellswold sat up that morning, his wife and
physicians by his side, and all were happy with the great improvement.

Meanwhile, at the monastery all was commotion. The day there would be
far too short to accomplish all that was to be done. Three couriers
had arrived since dawn with important dispatches. In the midst of
the monks, who sat upon long benches that flanked either side of a
spacious gallery, sat Adrian Cantemir, reading the last message.
Opposite, at the table, were three monks apparently engaged upon their
own affairs, but subtly watching the puzzled countenance of their
guest. Finally their patience seemed to have run out and Constantine,
the monk directly _vis-a-vis_ to Cantemir, coughed, cleared his throat
and in low gutterals said,--

"Thy countenance is unfair; 'tis a perjury on thy happy heart." Adrian
looked up with a start, so lost was he in contemplation. His letter
was prophetic of evil, and he was afraid.

"'Tis ill news, and thou wert not far wrong to bring forth thine
arms. The secrets to be intrusted to my wife it seems have already
reached--"

"The King?" and with the words it appeared each Abbe was upon his feet
and leaning forward intent.

"Nay, but the arch-fiends Buckingham and Monmouth. And with the King's
consent they leave for a hunting bout and they ride hither. It says
that the former in masque saw my meeting this morning with Lady
Constance, and he followed and made love to her." The Abbes stood in
utter dismay and dejection. At last, Dempsy of the Cow and Horn began
in deep, full tones the first movement of the "Kyrie eleison, Christe
Eleison, Kyrie eleison," and one by one every voice leapt up in a
God-have-mercy, and the walls echoed and without the birds seemed to
take it up, and it was carried to a listening ear not far from the
shadow of the wall. Then the prayer ceased and La Fosse--half soldier,
half priest--spoke in ringing tones.

"And what else does thy billet say? Why are we to be attacked; are we
not upon our own ground?"

"It is mooted that should my wife gain