found his man half a mile further on coming to meet him with his horse, and he mounted and rode on with Nicholas towards the mill.
"I have something to tell you," he said presently. "Chris is to be a monk."
"Mother of God!" cried Nicholas, half checking his horse, "and when was that arranged?"
"Last night," went on Ralph. "He went to see the Holy Maid at St. Sepulchre's, and it seems that she told him he had a vocation; so there is an end of it."
"And what do you all think of it?" asked the other.
"Oh! I suppose he knows his business."
Nicholas asked a number of questions, and was informed that Chris proposed to go to Lewes in a month's time. He was already twenty-three, the Prior had given his conditional consent before, and there was no need for waiting. Yes, they were Cluniacs; but Ralph believed that they were far from strict just at present. It need not be the end of Chris so far as this world was concerned.
"But you must not say that to him," he went on, "he thinks it is heaven itself between four walls, and we shall have a great scene of farewell. I think I must go back to town before it takes place: I cannot do that kind of thing."
Nicholas was not attending, and rode on in silence for a few yards, sucking in his lower lip.
"We are lucky fellows, you and I," he said at last, "to have a monk to pray for us."
Ralph glanced at him, for he was perfectly grave, and a rather intent and awed look was in his eyes.
"I think a deal of that," he went on, "though I cannot talk to a churchman as I should. I had a terrible time with my Lord of Canterbury last year, at Otford. He was not a hunter like this one, and I knew not what else to speak of."
Ralph's eyes narrowed with amusement.
"What did you say to him?" he asked.
"I forget," said Nicholas, "and I hope my lord did. Mary told me I behaved like a fool. But this one is better. I hear. He is at Ashford now with his hounds."
They talked a little more about Chris, and Ralph soon saw on which side Nicholas ranged himself. It was an unfeigned pleasure to this hunting squire to have a monk for a brother-in-law; there was no knowing how short purgatory might not be for them all under the circumstances.
It was evident, too, when they came up with the others a couple of miles further on, that Nicholas's attitude towards the young man had undergone a change. He looked at him with a deep respect, refrained from criticising his bloodless hands, and was soon riding on in front beside him, talking eagerly and deferentially, while Ralph followed with Mary and his father.
"You have heard?" he said to her presently.
"Father has just told me," she said. "We are very much pleased—dear
Chris!"
"And then there is Meg," put in her father.
"Oh! Meg; yes, I knew she would. She is made for a nun."
Sir James edged his horse in presently close to Ralph, as Mary went in front through a narrow opening in the wood.
"Be good to him," he said. "He thinks so much of you."
Ralph glanced up and smiled into the tender keen eyes that were looking into his own.
"Why, of course, sir," he said.
* * * * *
It was an immense pleasure to Chris to notice the difference in Nicholas's behaviour towards him. There was none of that loud and cheerful rallying that stood for humour, no criticisms of his riding or his costume. The squire asked him a hundred questions, almost nervously, about the Holy Maid and himself, and what had passed between them.
"They say the Host was carried to her through the air from Calais,
Chris, when the King was there. Did you hear her speak of that?"
Chris shook his head.
"There was not time," he said.
"And then there was the matter of the divorce—" Nicholas turned his head slightly; "Ralph cannot hear us, can he? Well—the matter of the divorce—I hear she denounced that, and would have none of it, and has written to the Pope, too."
"They were saying something of the kind," said Chris, "but I thought it best not to meddle."
"And what did she say to you?"
Chris told him the story, and Nicholas's eyes grew round and fixed as he listened; his mouth was a little open, and he murmured inarticulate comments as they rode together up from the mill.
"Lord!" he said at last, "and she said all that about hell. God save us! And her tongue out of her mouth all the while! And did you see anything yourself? No devils or angels?"
"I saw nothing," said Chris. "I just listened, but she saw them."
"Lord!" said Nicholas again, and rode on in profound silence.
The Maxwells were to stay to supper at the Court; and drive home afterwards; so there was no opportunity for Chris to go down and bathe in the lake as he usually did in summer after a day's hunting, for supper was at seven o'clock, and he had scarcely more than time to dress.
Nicholas was very talkative at supper, and poured out all that Chris had told him, with his usual lack of discretion; for the other had already told the others once all the details that he thought would interest them.
"They were talking about the divorce," he broke out, and then stopped and eyed Ralph craftily; "but I had better not speak of that here—eh, Chris?"
Ralph looked blandly at his plate.
"Chris did not mention that," he said. "Tell us, Nick."
"No, no," cried Nicholas. "I do not want you to go with tales to town. Your ears are too quick, my friend. Then there was that about the Host flying from Calais, eh, Chris? No, no; you said you had heard nothing of that."
Chris looked up and his face was a little flushed.
"No, Nick," he said.
"There seems to have been a great deal that Chris did not tell us—" began Ralph.
Sir James glanced swiftly from his seat under the canopy.
"He told us all that was needed," he said.
"Aha!" broke out Nicholas again, "but the Holy Maid said that the King would not live six months if he—"
Chris's face was full of despair and misery, and his father interrupted once more.
"We had better not speak of that, my son," he said to Nicholas. "It is best to leave such things alone."
Ralph was smiling broadly with tight lips by now.
"By my soul,
