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"Insolent priest!" returned Skipwith, in a suppressed tone, as his look wandered from the abbot to the distorted features of the departing. "I come, not as an individual to harass, but as a judge to fulfil the law."

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As the baron had promised not to punish, Byles and his wife were dismissed unharmed; but from that hour forward, they were regarded by all as under ban, and therefore shunned as much as possible. We should premise, however, that before Byles was permitted to leave the hall, Stephen Holgrave was led in, that he might receive a public acquittal. When Holgrave entered, supported by one of the servitors, and, appearing unable to stand, was seated on a stool, Sir Robert Knowles, who had more than once taken a strong interest in him, started up, and was about to make some observation; but recollecting himself, he resumed his seat, and remained silent. De Boteler himself felt a glow of shame and a qualm of conscience, as he looked upon the white, swollen face, and bent and shrunken form of one who had, in the moment of peril, sprung, with the vigour and ferocity of the tiger, between him and death. Holgrave had not been informed why the agonizing punishment had been remitted, nor why he had been placed in a comfortable bed, and every attention paid him; and he only suspected that, perceiving severity could effect nothing, they were unwilling to lose their victim, and wished again to try the effect of a milder treatment. His suspicions seemed confirmed, when, upon an order from De Boteler, a page approached, and presented him with a cup of wine. Although, as we have said, suspecting the motive of so much indulgence, he drank the wine, and then, looking round the hall, wondered why there had been such a gathering of the vassals, and why their looks were bent upon him with such friendly interest, and why words of pity and triumph were murmured amongst them; then he wondered why Jack Straw was sitting in Calverley's place, and what fault John Byles and his wife had committed, that they stood there like criminals. These thoughts, however, had scarcely passed through his mind, when the baron addressed him in a gentle tone."Of course, if you can manage it without us being spotted."Chapter 6

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ONE:"We're in a larmentable way up at Grandturzel.""The rebels are betrayed, and you are condemned; but, if you will hearken to my request, this hour shall free you from prison:Will you, will you tell me of my lost child?"

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THREE:"For money; and for what money will buydrink. Have you any wine in the room?"
THREE:"But we're a sight smarter than men."Old Mrs. Backfield was getting very decrepit. She could not walk without a stick, and her knotted hands were of little use either in the kitchen or the dairy. Reuben was anxious to avoid engaging anyone to help her, yet the developments of her sphere made such help most necessary. Odiam now supplied most of the neighbouring gentry with milk, butter, and eggs; the poultry-yard had grown enormously since it had been a mere by-way of Mrs. Backfield's labours, and she and the girls also had charge of the young calves and pigs, which needed constant attention, and meant a great deal of hard work. Besides this, there was all the housework to do, sweeping, dusting, cooking, baking, and mending and washing for the males.

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THREE:

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THREE:"Lady," said the monk in a stern voice, "think you so meanly of John Ball that he would do for a bribe what he would not do for justice sake? The time was when ye might have known, but ye took not counsel"

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THREE:Reuben opened the door, and the welcome, longed-for smell stole out to himsmothering the rivalry of a clump of chrysanthemums, rotting in dew.
FORE:"Peace, woman!" interrupted the abbot: "peacepresume not to interfere." And then, turning to the judge, he added, "Sir Robert Skipwith, I again demand of you the custody of this woman."

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FORE:He went out and did a little work, but after an hour or so flung down the chicken-coop he was making, and rushed into the house. His usual question received its usual answer. He thought the doctor a hemmed fraud and the doctor thought him a damned fool.

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THREE:Reuben did not answer; she knew by his attitudechin in handthat he was thinking.
FORE:"'Tis false!" returned Richard, angrily"who are they?confess! confess!"

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FORE:"I am not a bondmannor is the Baron de Boteler my lord," said father John, in a deep, collected voice.

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FORE:He mumbled curses as he dressed, and bathed his head in cold water. He did not deserve this visitationusually he regarded an after-debauch headache as one of the marvellous acts of Providence, in which he, like most sailormen, believed with a faith which though conveniently removed from works was deeply tinged with admiration. But yesterday he had not been really drunkwhy, he could remember nearly everything that had happened, the dancing, the songs, the girls, how he had walked home singing "Rio Bay," and how he had met that queer girl at the farmhouse gate, and thought he was going to have some fun with her and been disappointed."Do you hear me, varlet?" asked De Boteler, in a furious tone, as the smith delayed an answer.

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FORE:She kissed and admired the infant, inquired of Margaret's health, bade her hope for better days, and then proceeded to talk of affairs at the castle;how the baroness still continued to weep and lament; and how De Boteler, ever since he had returned from London, had been almost distractedone minute crying and raving that there was some traitor at the castle who had connived at the abduction of his child, and that he would discover him and hang him up without form of trial,and the next offering large rewards and free pardon to any one who could give the slightest information, even though they should have aided in the theft;and once he even went so far as to promise pardon to the actual offender. As, of course, this strange occurrence had been a prolific source of speculation to the gossips, Lucy proceeded to detail a number of stories she had heard on the subject.

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"Mer-c-c-y! mer-c-c-y! oh! mercy, Stephen Holgrave!" gasped he, as, with a despairing effort, he attempted to unloose the death-hold."Then, my lord archbishop," said Oakley, rising, "if a hair of that monk's head is touched, I will not answer for the result. Wat Tyler, my lords, is a man of desperate purpose. He has sworn before the multitude, that, if the prophet is not freed before the twenty-four hours, the heads of all these noble peers around me shall answer for it.Nay more"It was instantly opened; and the galleyman, with his saturated garments, and his long black hair hanging dripping over his shoulders, entered the cottage.He turned on her almost fiercely, his lips curled back from his teeth in a sneer.
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