"Honor and expediency go not always hand in hand," the priest answered with a half suppressed sneer; then without giving time for retort, he changed his tones to grave courtesy. "But I am remiss, my lord, I have not yet done you the civility of inquiring how we of Kirkstall can serve you."
"Not at all, I fear; at least upon the matter that brought us here; it is evident you can give us no information as to the Countess."
"Alas! no, my son. Would to Heaven I could! … Have you then lost all trace of her?"
"Aye, a league south of the Aire."
"I will summon the brother who was on duty last night at the outer lodge; maybe he noted something that will aid you."
But Father Ambrose had not seen a single way-farer; though as he had dozed several times during the night he thought a few persons might have passed quietly, and not aroused him.
"You doze!" exclaimed the Abbot in sarcastic displeasure and eyeing the good monk's ample girth and heavy, jowly face. "Your doze would need a pole-axe to awaken. An army could have marched by with trumpets sounding and you never lift an eye. Other duty shall be given you and a more slender brother assigned to the night watch. You may go… By my faith, sirs, I wonder if you soldiers have as much trouble with your subordinates as we churchmen have with ours."
"We, at least, can deal out heavier discipline when occasion demand it," De Wilton answered.
"Aye! you men of war tread not after the Merciful One," the Abbot said.
De Lacy laughed shortly. "Mercy is but relative, and methinks, you ecclesiastics are no slower in your judgments than are we. The punishments differ only in kind."