In a few words Achanna rapidly related the interview, which, by chance, he had overheard, in the church of St. Genevieve, and the earl was filled by such a tempest of anger that he became all but speechless; yet by a great effort of self-control, an effort the more painful that such exertion was quite unusual—he contented himself by glaring from under his black bushy eyebrows at poor unconscious Murielle with an expression as if he would have annihilated her.
"Think you the abbot took her there to meet him?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.
"Where?"
"Thou ass! to the church of St. Genevieve?"
"Heaven forfend! no; 'twas he who saved her from Gray," whined the sycophant vassal.
"It is well," said the earl in a quiet voice, but with fury still kindling in his eye and quivering on his lip; "were it otherwise, by St. Bryde, I'd unfrock and scourge him through these streets of Bommel with a horse halter, a mitred abbot and my confessor though he be!"
"Who, think you, my lord, brought to Lady Murielle at Thrave, the tidings that Gray still lived?"
"I would give this golden chain to know."
"I overheard——"
"His name—his name?"