“Brigid!” she cried, her voice on a harsh note of anger.
Isabel went straight to the door. Without she confronted Brigid risen from her knees. The two faced each other in the moonlight.
“Spy,” said Isabel; that and no more.
Brigid, chin raised, uttered no word. She looked very straight at Isabel, who cared not to meet her eyes. There was certainly no shame in them.
Balda the Witch peered from the doorway. Well-nigh devoid of sight she scented the mental atmosphere, found that in the one woman ill-suited to her liking. Momentarily her spirit cowered. Muttering an oath she withdrew, slammed the door.
“Shall we return?” said Isabel silkily.
CHAPTER VII
SANCTUARY
THE Lady Abbess of Sangdieu, having heard vespers, was about to return to her own chamber, when word was brought her that one Mistress Brigid Carlisle was in the parlour seeking audience of her.
“My niece!” said the Abbess surprised, and startled for the moment from her customary equability of bearing.