“How thou clarifiest (glorifiest) the King’s Grace! Satan ruleth a wider realm than he, child, but I would not trust his oath. What caused them to take account that I should not believe them, unless their own ill consciences?”
Isabel was silent.
“Isabel!” said her cousin, suddenly turning to her, “have they his oath for the same?”
“Whose, Custance?—my Lord of Kent?”
Custance nodded impatiently.
“Oh, ay.”
“He hath allowed our wedding void in law?”
“Ay so.”
“What manner of talk held his conscience with him, sithence, mewondereth?” suggested Custance, in a low, troubled voice. “But maybe, like thee, he accounteth if but priest’s gear.”
“Marry, ’tis far lighter travail. I list not to carry mine own sins: I had the liefer by the worth of the Queen’s Highness’ gems they were on the priest’s back.”