s, and return to her duty as a servant of
the Living and Eternal One. It was at that time that I and thy father
were wedded; and we then came to live in Norwich, bringing Anegay with
us."

Licorice paused, as if her tale were finished. It sounded specious: but
how much of it was true? "And did she forget him, Mother?"

"Of course she did, Belasez. It was her duty." Belasez privately
thought that people did not always do their duty, and that such a duty
as this would be extremely hard to do.

"Was she ever married, Mother, if you please?"

"She married a young Jew, my dear, named Aaron the son of Leo, and died
soon after the birth of her first child," said Licorice, glibly. "And
was she really happy, Mother?"

"Happy! Of course she was. She had no business to be any thing else."

Belasez was silent, but not in the least convinced.

"Thou seest now, my Belasez, why I was so much afraid of thy visits to
Bury. I well know thou art a discreet maiden, and entirely to be
trusted so far as thine ability goes: but what can such qualities avail
thee against magic? I have heard of a grand-aunt of mine, whom a
Christian by this means glued to the settle, and for three years she
could not rise from it, until the wicked spell was dissolved. I do not
mistrust thee, good daughter: I do but warn thee."

And Licorice rose with a manner which indicated the termination of the
interview, apparently thinking it better to reserve the religious
question for another time.

"May I ask one other question, Mother?--what became of the maiden
Beatrice and her brother?"

Licorice's eyes twinkled again. Belasez listened for the answer on the
principle of the Irishman who looked at the guide-post to see where the
road did not lead.

"The squire was killed fighting the Saracens, I believe. I do not know
what became of the maiden."

Licorice disappeared.

"The squire was not killed, I am sure," said Belasez to herself. "It is
Father Bruno."

Left alone, Belasez reviewed her very doubtful information. Anegay was
not her sister, and probably not her aunt. That she had loved Bruno was
sure to be true; and that she had been forcibly separated from him was
only too likely. But her subsequent marriage to Aaron, and the very
existence of Beatrice, were in Belasez's eyes purely fictitious details,
introduced to make the events dovetail nicely. Why she doubted the
latter point she could hardly have told. It was really due to t