dy abbess.

Nearly two years had passed away since Agnes had first heard Friar
Laurence preach at Saint Paul's Cross, and once more Corpus Christi had
come round. Since that time she had grown much in the spiritual life,
though she had received no outward help beyond those rare Sunday
readings, and her occasional interviews with the Friar. Though Corpus
Christi was still "uncertainly" kept, it naturally fell in with Mistress
Winter's new policy of veneered piety to be exceedingly respectful to
all fasts and festivals. Accordingly she gave a grand banquet to some
dozen acquaintances, and sent Agnes about her business. There was
likely to be reading on a holy day, and Agnes bent her steps towards the
Cathedral; but finding when she reached it that it was a little too
early, she sat down on the steps of the Cross to wait. There was no one
about; for most of those who cared to keep the feast did not care to
hear sermons or Bible-readings; and Agnes was thinking so intently as
hardly to be conscious whether she was alone or not.

"Good morrow, friend!" said a voice beside her; and John Laurence sat
down a little way from her on the steps.

"Good morrow, Father," answered Agnes.

"Agnes, I would seek thy counsel."

Agnes looked up in astonishment. He seek her counsel! Was it not she
who had always sought his?

"Good lack, Father!" she exclaimed in her surprise.

John Laurence leaned his head thoughtfully on his hand, and made no
further communication for some seconds.

"I know a Black Friar, Agnes," he said, speaking slowly, as if weighing
each word, "who seeth no cause, neither in God's Word, neither in common
reason, wherefore priests should not be wedded men, as thou wist that
many, these ten years past, have been. But he is yet loth to break his
mind unto the maid, seeing that many perils do now seem to lie in the
way of wedded priests, and he cannot tell if it were well done or no,
that he should speak unto her. If penalty fell on him, being thus wed,
it should not leave her scatheless. Tell me, now, how thinkest thou?--
should he do well to break his mind, or no? A maid may judge better
than a man how a maid should take it."

"I would think, Father," answered the astonished Agnes, "that a maid
which did truly love any man should not suffer uncertain sorrow to stand
betwixt her and him."

"Yet how, if it were certain?"

"Nay, nor so neither."

"Go to! Put it this case were thine own. Shouldst