cloak she wore.

"You know well that I love you, to my sorrow and undoing," she said, in
a broken voice. "From childhood it has been so between us, and till the
grave takes one or both it will be so, and for my part beyond it, if
the priests speak true. For, whatever may be your case, I am not one to
change my fancy. When I give, I give all, though it be of little worth.
In truth, Hugh, if I could I would marry you to-night, though you are
naught but a merchant's son, or even----" And she paused, wiping her
eyes with the back of her slim, strong hand.

"I thank you," he answered, trembling with joy. "So it is with me. For
you and no other woman I live and die; and though I am so humble I'll
be worthy of you yet. If God keeps me in breath you shall not blush for
your man, Eve. Well, I am not great at words, so let us come to deeds.
Will you away with me now? I think that Father Arnold would find you
lodging for the night and an altar to be wed at, and to-morrow our ship
sails for Flanders and for France."

"Yes, but would your father give us passage in it, Hugh?"

"Why not? It could not deepen the feud between our Houses, which already
has no bottom, and if he refused, we would take one, for the captain is
my friend. And I have some little store set by; it came to me from my
mother."

"You ask much," she said; "all a woman has, my life, perchance, as well.
Yet there it is; I'll go because I'm a fool, Hugh; and, as it chances,
you are more to me than aught, and I hate this fine French lord. I tell
you I sicken at his glance and shiver when he touches me. Why, if he
came too near I should murder him and be hanged. I'll go, though God
alone knows the end of it."

"Our purpose being honest, the end will be good, Eve, though perhaps
before all is done we may often think it evil. And now let's away,
though I wish that you were dressed in another colour."

"Red Eve they name me, and red is my badge, because it suits my dark
face best. Cavil not at my robe, Hugh, for it is the only dowry you will
get with Eve Clavering. How shall we go? By the Walberswick ferry? You
have no horses."

"Nay, but I have a skiff hidden in the reeds five miles furlongs off. We
must keep to the heath above Walberswick, for there they might know your
red cloak even after dark, and I would not have you seen till we are
safe with Sir Arnold in the Preceptory. Mother of Heaven! what is that?"

"A peewit, no more," she answered indifferently.