"And yet she has known much sorrow," said Miles.
"Yes; she told me she had suffered much of late," answered Margery.
"Did she tell you wherefore this was?" asked her brother.
"No; she seemed to remember something you had said to her, and when I asked her to tell me all about it, she said, 'Miles will tell you when he thinks best.' What is it, Miles? Why is there such a sad look in her sweet, grey eyes, and how is it she is travelling alone with you if she is not your wife?"
"Margery, we did not know how much we loved each other until it was too late. I used to go to Greenwich, and the Tower, and the Palace of Sheen, in attendance upon my master, and wherever I might go I would meet Mistress Cicely about the Court, because she was one of the Queen's favourites, and we talked, and walked, and met at Cicely's home. But at last somebody found out more than we knew, or, at least, were quite sure of ourselves, and to prevent our marriage and please the Queen, Cicely was sent to a convent a few months ago, and it was not until she had gone that I knew how much I loved her."
"But—but—is she a nun?" asked Margery in a frightened whisper.
"No, Margery, she was only a novice," said Miles, boldly.
"But is not that almost the same?" asked his sister, anxiously.
"No, indeed, there is a very great deal of difference. If a man or woman is betrothed to another they can change their minds before they are married, and none can say aught against it. You understand that, Margery?"
"Oh yes, that is quite clear," said Margery.