ith importance.

"You are no priest, but holy peddler!" cried Gabord roughly. "This is
not mating as Christians, and fires of hell shall burn--aho! I will see
you all go down, and hand of mine shall not be lifted for you!"

He puffed out his cheeks, and his great eyes rolled so like fire-wheels.

"You are a witness to this ceremony," said the chaplain. "And you shall
answer to your God, but you must speak the truth for this man and wife."

"Man and wife?" laughed Gabord wildly. "May I die and be damned to--"

Like a flash Alixe was beside him, and put to his lips most swiftly the
little wooden cross that Mathilde had given her.

"Gabord, Gabord," she said in a sweet, sad voice, "when you may come to
die, a girl's prayers will be waiting at God's feet for you."

He stopped, and stared at her. Her hand lay on his arm, and she
continued: "No night gives me sleep, Gabord, but I pray for the jailer
who has been kind to an ill-treated gentleman."

"A juggling gentleman, that cheats Gabord before his eyes, and smuggles
in a mongrel priest!" he blustered.

I waved my hand at the chaplain, or I think he would have put his Prayer
Book to rougher use than was its wont, and I was about to answer, but
Alixe spoke instead, and to greater purpose than I could have done.
Her whole mood changed, her face grew still and proud, her eyes flashed
bravely.

"Gabord," she said, "vanity speaks in you there, not honesty. No
gentleman here is a juggler. No kindness you may have done warrants
insolence. You have the power to bring great misery on us, and you may
have the will, but, by God's help, both my husband and myself shall
be delivered from cruel hands. At any moment I may stand alone in the
world, friends, people, the Church, and all the land against me: if you
desire to haste that time, to bring me to disaster, because you would
injure my husband,"--how sweet the name sounded on her lips!--"then act,
but do not insult us. But no, no," she broke off softly, "you spoke in
temper, you meant it not, you were but vexed with us for the moment.
Dear Gabord," she added, "did we not know that if we had asked you
first, you would have refused us? You care so much for me, you would
have feared my linking my life and fate with one--"

"With one the death-man has in hand, to pay price for wicked deed," he
interrupted.

"With one innocent of all dishonour, a gentleman wronged every way.
Gabord, you know it so, for you have guarded him and