same voice. "Thou at least shalt suffer no
more. Thy place is with the blessed saints and the holy angels, where
nothing may ever enter that shall grieve or defile. But surely as thou
art safe housed in Heaven, and I am left desolate on earth, thy death
shall be avenged by fair means or by foul!"

"`Vengeance is Mine; I will repay, saith the Lord,'" softly quoted Bruno
as Richard passed him in the doorway.

"He will,--by my hands!"

And Richard de Clare was seen no more.

It was hard to tell the poor mother, who came into her Margaret's bower
with a bright smile, guessing so little of the terrible news in store.
Tenderly as they tried to break it, she fainted away, and had to be
nursed back to life and diligently cared for. But all was over for the
night, and Doucebelle and Beatrice were beginning to think of bed,
before Eva made her appearance. Of course the news had to be told
again.

"Oh dear, how shocking!" said Eva, putting down her bouquet. "How very
distressing! (I am afraid those flowers will never keep till morning.)
Well, do you know, I am really thankful I was not here. What good could
it have done poor dear Margaret, you know?--and I am so easily upset,
and so very sensitive! I never can _bear_ scenes of that sort. (Dear,
I had no idea my shoes were so splashed!) As it is, I shall not sleep a
wink. I sha'n't get over it for a week,--if I do then! Oh, how very
shocking! Look, Doucebelle, aren't these cowslips sweet?"

"Eva, wilt thou let me have some of the white flowers--for Margaret?"
said Doucebelle.

"For Margaret!--why, what dost thou mean? Oh! To put by her in her
coffin? Horrid! Really, Dulcie, I think that is great waste. And the
bouquet is so nicely made up,--it would be such a pity to pull it to
pieces! I spent half an hour at least in putting it together, and
Brimnatyn de Hertiland helped me. Of course thou canst have them if
thou must,--but--"

Doucebelle quietly declined the gift so doubtfully offered.

"I wish, Doucebelle, thou wouldst have more consideration for people's
feelings!" said Eva in a querulous tone, smoothing the petals of her
flowers. "I am sure, whenever I look at a bouquet for the next
twelvemonth, I shall think of this. I cannot help it--things do take
such hold of me! And just think, how easily all that might be avoided!"

"I beg thy pardon, Eva. I am sorry I asked thee," was the soft answer.

It was not far to Margaret's grave, for they l