“Pax vobiscum!” said the pseudo friar, and was endeavouring to hurry past, when a soft voice replied, “ Et vobis⁠—quaso, domine reverendissime, pro misericordia vestra. ”

“I am somewhat deaf,” replied Cedric, in good Saxon, and at the same time muttered to himself, “A curse on the fool and his pax vobiscum! I have lost my javelin at the first cast.”

It was, however, no unusual thing for a priest of those days to be deaf of his Latin ear, and this the person who now addressed Cedric knew full well.

“I pray you of dear love, reverend father,” she replied in his own language, “that you will deign to visit with your ghostly comfort a wounded prisoner of this castle, and have such compassion upon him and us as thy holy office teaches⁠—Never shall good deed so highly advantage thy convent.”