"

"Ay, Lady," said Maude quietly.

"And--hast here any book of Sir John de Wycliffe?"

"The Evangel after Lucas, Lady."

"Wilt read me to sleep therewith?"

"Surely, Lady mine."

"Was it thence thou readst once unto me, of a woman that was sinful,
which washed our Lord's feet?"

"Ay so, Madam."

"Read that again."

The words were repeated softly in the quiet chamber, by the dim light of
the silver lamp. Maude paused when she had read them.

"When thou and I speak of such as we love, Maude, we make allowance for
their short-comings. `She did but little ill,' quoth we, or, `She had
sore provoking thereto,' and the like. But he saith, `Manye synnes ben
forgiuen to hir'--yet not too many to be forgiven!"

"Ah, dear my Lady," said Maude affectionately, "methinks our Lord can
afford to take full measure of the sins of His chosen ones, sith He
hath, to bless them, so full and free forgiveness."

"Yet that must needs cost somewhat."

"Cost!" repeated Maude with deep feeling. "Lady, the cost thereof to
Him was the cross."

"But to us?" suggested Custance.

"Is there any cost to us, beyond the holding forth of empty hands to
receive His great gift? I count, Madam, that as it is His best glory to
give all, so it must be ours to receive all."

"O Maude!" she wailed with a weary sigh, "when can I make me clean
enough in His sight to receive this His gift?"

"Methinks, Lady mine, this woman which came into the Pharisee's house
was no cleaner ne fairer than other women. And, tarrying to make her
clean, she might have come over late. Be not the emptiest meetest to
receive gifts, and the uncleanest they that have most need of washing?"

"The most need,--ay."

"And did ever an almoner 'plain that poor beggars came for his dole,--or
a mother that her child were too much bemired to be cleansed?"

"Is there woman on middle earth this night, Maude, poorer beggar than I,
or more bemired?"

"Sweet Lady!" said Maude very earnestly, "if you would but make trial of
our Lord's heart toward you! `Alle ye that traveilen and ben chargid,
come to Me'--this is His bidding, dear my Lady! And His promise is, `I
will fulfille you'--`ye schal fynde reste to your soulis.'"

"I would come, if I knew how!" she moaned.

"Maybe," said Maude softly, "they which would come an' they knew how, do
come after His reckoning. Howbeit, this wis I,--that an' your Ladyship
have will to come unto Him, He hath full good will to show