“Come, we are keeping Sir Nicholas waiting;” and they returned to the great quadrangle, where they found that worthy striding up and down with some impatience.
“We must be off at once, brother, Hubert and I. The woods are not over safe after nightfall.”
“I must ask thee to spare me my son a while. I would fain make his further acquaintance.”
“Come back with us to Walderne, then. The lad would soon die of the gloom of a monastery.”
“I spent four years in one, and the earl found me alive at the end,” said Hubert.
“Nay, my brother, I may not leave the priory now.”
“But how long wilt thou keep the boy?”
“Only till tomorrow.”
“Well, I may tarry till tomorrow, but not at the monastery. My old crony, the De Warrenne up at the castle, will lodge me, and I will return for the lad after the Chapter Mass, at nine.”
Of all forms of architecture the Norman appears to the writer the most awe inspiring. Its massive round pillars, its bold, but simple arch, have an effect upon the mind more imposing and solemnising, if we may coin the word, than the more florid architecture of the decorated period, which may aptly be described as “Gothic run to seed.” Such a stern and simple structure was the earlier priory church of Lewes, in the days of which we write.