came, with a heavy sigh, from Abraham.

"Hold thy tongue! Where should we be without it?"

Abraham made no answer. But early on the following morning he summoned
Belasez to the little porch-chamber, and she went with her heart
beating.

As she suspected, the catechism was now to be gone through. But poor
Abraham was the more timid of the two. He was so evidently unwilling to
speak, and so regretfully tender, that Belasez's heart warmed, and she
lost all her shyness. Of course, she told him more than she otherwise
would have done.

Belasez denied the existence of any Christian lover, or indeed of any
lover at all, with such clear, honest eyes, that Abraham could not but
believe her. But, he urged, had she ever seen any man in the Castle, to
speak to him?

"Yes," said Belasez frankly. "Not while the Lady was there. But during
her absence, Sir Richard de Clare had been three times in the bower, and
the priests had given lessons to the damsels in the ante-chamber."

"Did any of these ever speak to thee?"

"Sir Richard never spoke to me but twice, further than to say `Good
morrow.' Once he admired a pattern I was working, and once he asked me,
when I came in from the leads, if it were raining."

"Didst thou care for him, my daughter?"

"Not in the least," said Belasez, "nor he for me. I rather think Damsel
Margaret was his attraction." Her father seemed satisfied on that
point. "And these priests? How many were there?" Belasez told him.
"Master Aristoteles the physician, and Father Nicholas, and Father
Warner, chaplains of my Lord the Earl; and the chaplain of the Lady."

She hardly knew what instinct made her unwilling to utter Father Bruno's
name; and, most unintentionally, she blushed.

"Oh!" said Abraham to himself, "the Lady's chaplain is the dangerous
person.--Are they old men, my child?"

"None of them is either very old or very young, Father."

"Describe them to me, I pray thee."

"Master Aristoteles I cannot describe, for I have only heard his voice.
Father Nicholas is about fifty, I should think: a kindly sort of man,
but immersed in his books, and caring for little beside. Father Warner
is not pleasant; all the girls were very much afraid of him."

"And the chaplain of the Lady?"

"He is forty or more, I should suppose: tall and slender, eyes and hair
dark; a very pleasant man to speak with."

"I am afraid so!" was Abraham's internal comment.--"And his name,
daughter?"

"Fath