She went out sobbing, and encountered Bruno at the head of the stairs.
“O Father Bruno!” faltered the girl. “Father Warner will not do it!”
“I was afraid so,” said Bruno, sadly. “I should not have thought of asking him had my Brother Nicholas been at home. Well, daughter, this is no fault of thine. Remember, we baptise only with water: but He whose ministers we are can baptise thee with the Holy Ghost and with fire. Let Him be thy Shepherd to provide for thee; thy Priest to absolve thee; thy King to command thine heart’s allegiance. So dwell thou to Him in this world now, that hereafter thou mayest dwell with Him for ever.”
Belasez stooped and kissed his hand. He gave her his blessing in fervent tones, bade her a farewell which gave him unmistakable pain, and let her depart. Belasez drew her veil closely over her face, and joined Delecresse and her father’s old friend Hamon in the hall.
“What a time thou hast been!” said Delecresse, discontentedly. “Do let us go now. I want to be outside this accursed Castle.”
But to Belasez it seemed like stepping out of the sunlit fold into the dreary wilderness beyond.
As they passed the upper end of the hall, Belasez paused for an instant to make a last reverence to Margaret, who sat there talking with her unacknowledged husband, Sir Richard de Clare. The black scowl on the face of her brother drew her attention at once.
“Who is that young Gentile?” he demanded.
“Sir Richard de Clare, Lord of Gloucester.”
“What hast thou against him?” asked old Hamon.