, and disappeared into the kitchen, as
Margery ran up-stairs to her own room, and brought down in her hand a
valuable necklace. Richard came into the banqueting-hall from one door,
as Margery made her appearance from the opposite one.

"I have a letter from Sir Geoffrey to bear to Sir Ralph Marston," said
he. "Have you any commands for Marston, Mistress Margery?" he
mischievously added.

"Master Pynson," said Margery, earnestly, in a low tone, "I pray you to
take this jewel to Master Carew, and to leave it in pledge with him, in
case he will lend me the book. If he value it at more than this, I can
send other jewels; but, Master Pynson, bring me the book!"

Richard placed the necklace for safety in the bosom of his doublet, and
answered, "Fear not, good mistress; if I bring you not the book, it
shall not be for lack of entreaty. Only hope not too much, for I may
chance to fail."

"Pray God he lend you the book!" was her only answer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note. The Sangraal was the vessel in which the wine was contained which
Christ gave to His disciples, saying, "Drink ye all of this;" this
vessel was supposed to have been brought into England by Joseph of
Arimathea; and the "quest" or search for this important relic formed one
of the chief adventures of the Knights of the Round Table.

CHAPTER TWO.

A LATE DINNER.

"And there is something in this book
That makes all care be gone,
And yet I weep--I know not why--
As I go reading on!"

Mary Howitt.

Margery went into the kitchen, and helped to prepare supper, under the
directions of Dame Lovell, and then she returned to her own room, and
tried to finish her illumination of Peter and Malchus; but she could not
command her thoughts sufficiently to paint well, so much was her heart
set on "the book." Therefore she sat with her hands folded in her lap,
and tried to recall Sastre's sermon. Then came supper-time, and Margery
went down to the banqueting-hall; and after supper, having begged her
parents' blessing before retiring to rest, she came back to her chamber.
But she did not attempt to undress. When the sun set, a red glory
above the tree-tops, she was watching at her casement for Richard
Pynson; and when the silver moon and the little golden stars had taken
the sun's place in the heavens, she was watching still. At last she
heard the sound of a horse's feet, and stole softly down