; though, had a different copy been given him, in
which the pages did not commence with the same line, it would probably
have perplexed him extremely. Thus, under these circumstances, his love
for Margery, his love for furmety, and his utter ignorance, combined to
dispose him to let her off easily.

Sir Geoffrey took the book from his chaplain with a sort of growl, and
threw it into Margery's lap.

"There! take it, damsel!" said he. "I account it Andrew's business to
take care of thy soul, and he saith it will not hurt thee. I mind it
the less, as thou wilt shortly go to dwell with one who will see to thee
in these matters, and will not let thee read Lollard books."

The thread fell from Margery's hand, and so did the distaff, which
rolled over the floor with a clatter. She never heeded it. A terrible,
indefinite dread had taken hold of her.

"Father! what mean you?" she stammered forth at last.

"What mean I?" said Sir Geoffrey, in the same half-affectionate,
half-sarcastic tone. "Why, that I have promised thee to the Lord
Marnell, Lord of the Bedchamber to the King's Grace, and Knight of the
Garter--and thou wilt be a lady and dwell in London town, and hold up
thine head with the highest! What sayest to _that_, child?" he added,
proudly.

She sat a moment with her white lips parted,--cold, silent, stunned.
Then the bitter cry of "Father, father!" awoke the echoes of the old
hall.

Sir Geoffrey was evidently troubled. He had sought only his daughter's
grandeur, and had never so much as dreamed that he might be making her
miserable.

"Why, child! dost not like it?" said he, in surprise.

She rose from her seat, and went to him, and kneeling down by him, laid
her head, bowed on her clasped hands, upon his knee. "O father,
father!" was all she said again.

"Truly, lass, I grieve much to see thee thus," said her father, in a
perplexed tone. "But thou wilt soon get over this, and be right glad,
too, to be so grand a lady. What shall I say to comfort thee?"

Long, terrible, hysterical sobs were coming from the bowed frame--but no
tears. At length, still without lifting up her head, she whispered--

"Is there no way to shun it, father? I love him not. O father, I love
him not--I cannot love him!"

"Truly, my poor lass, I trow we cannot shun it," said he. "I never
thought to see thee grieve so sore. The Lord Marnell is a noble
gentleman, and will find thee in silken tissues and golden cauls."