"Nothing amiss, sir," was the answer, "only a guest has just arrived, who would like to pay his respects, but—he is on foot!"
It was this last circumstance, evidently, which was perplexing Talabor.
"A guest?—on foot?" repeated Master Peter, as if he too were puzzled.
"Yes, sir; Abbot Roger, he calls himself, and says you know him!"
"What! good Father Roger! Know him? Of course I do!" cried Peter, springing from his chair. "Where is he? Why didn't you bring him in at once? I am not his Grace of Esztergom to keep a good man like him waiting in the entry!"
"The servants are just brushing the dust off him, sir," replied the page, "and he wants to wash his feet, but he will be ready to wait upon you directly, sir, if you please!"
"By all means! but he is no 'Abbot,' Talabor; he is private chaplain to Master Stephen, my brother!"
Talabor had not long been in Master Peter's service, and knew no more of Master Stephen than he did of Father Roger, so he said nothing and left the room with a bow.
"Blessed be the name of the Lord Jesus, Father Roger!" cried Master Peter, hurrying forward to meet his guest, as he entered the dining-hall.
"For ever and ever!" responded the Father, while Dora raised his hand to her lips, delighted to see her old friend again.