“If thou wouldst see a child of the devil, I trow thou hast little need to look further than thy mirror!”
The Abbot rose calmly, and let Lord Marnell enter.
“It becometh not poor and humble monks, servitors of God, to lend themselves unto the vanity of mirrors,” said he, pulling out a large rosary, and beginning to tell his beads devoutly.
“‘Servitors of God!’” cried Lord Marnell, too angry to be prudent. “Dost call thyself a servitor of God? If God hath no better servitors than thou, I ween He is evil served!”
The Abbot cast a glance from the corner of his eye at Lord Marnell, but made no answer, save to tell his beads more devoutly than ever.
“Hast no other place to tell thy beads in?” asked that nobleman.
The Abbot rose without a word, and, pausing at the door, stretched his hand over the assembled trio, and muttered some words to himself.
“Away with thee, Lucifer, and thy maledictions!” exclaimed Lord Marnell. “There be here who are nearer to the angels than ever thou shalt be!”
Suddenly the Abbot was gone. Nobody had seen or heard him depart—he seemed to melt into the night, in some strange, mysterious way.
“He is gone, and Satan his master go with him!” said Lord Marnell. “Ho, jailer! lock the door, I pray, and leave us three alone together.”