'never heed
the flower-leaves. I want a word with you.'

Claude de Mericour rose hastily, as if somewhat struck by the tone.

'The matter is this,' said the knight, leading him from the house, and
signing back the little girls who had sprung towards them--'it has been
brought to my mind that you are but a youth, and, pardon me, my young
master, but when lads and lasses have their heads together over one
book, tongues wag.'

The colour rushed hotly into young Mericour's face, and he answered
quickly, 'My rank--I mean my order--should answer that.'

'Stay, young man, we are not in France; your order, be it what it may,
has not hindered many a marriage in England; though, look you, no man
should ever wed with my consent who broke his word to God in so doing;
but they tell me your vows are not always made at your age.'

'Nor are they,' exclaimed Mericour, in a low voice, but with a sudden
light on his countenance. 'The tonsure was given me as a child, but no
vow of celibacy has passed my lips.'

Sir Marmaduke exclaimed, 'Oh!--' with a prolongation of the sound that
lasted till Mericour began again.

'But, sir, let tongues wag as they will, it is for nought. Your fair
daughter was but as ever preparing beforehand with me the tasks with
which she so kindly indoctrinates her little sisters. I never thought of
myself as aught but a religious, and should never dream of human love.'

'I thought so! I said so!' said Sir Marmaduke, highly gratified. 'I knew
you were an honourable man that would never speak of love to my daughter
by stealth, nor without means to maintain her after her birth.'

The word 'birth' brought the blood into the face of the son of the peer
of France, but he merely bowed with considerable stiffness and pride,
saying, 'You did me justice, sir.'

'Come, don't be hurt, man,' said Sir Marmaduke, putting his hand on his
shoulder. 'I told you I knew you for an honourable man! You'll be over
here to-morrow to hear the little maids their _Jam satis_, or whatever
you call it, and dine with us after to taste Lucy's handiwork in jam
cranberry, a better thing as I take it.'

Mericour had recovered himself, smiled, shook the good Sir Marmaduke
proffered hand, and, begging to excuse himself from bidding good night
to the ladies on the score of lateness, he walked away to cross the
downs on his return to Combe Walwyn, where he was still resident,
according to the arrangement by which he was there to await Beren