“I am travelling towards better thoughts, Father,” she answered.
But Sir Francis did not wholly believe the young lady; and was not at rest until Sir Godfrey assured him her good conduct should be no matter of her own choosing.
“You see,” insinuated the Abbot, “so sweet a maid as yours would be a treat for the unholy beast. A meal like that would incline him to remain in a neighbourhood where such dainties were to be found.”
“I’ll have no legends and fool’s tricks,” exclaimed the Baron. “She shall be locked in her room to-night.”
“Not if she can help it,” thought Miss Elaine. Her father had imprudently spoken too loud.
“’Twere a wise precaution,” murmured Father Anselm. “What are all the vintages of this earth by the side of a loving daughter?”
“Quite so, quite so!” Sir Godfrey assented. “Don’t you think,” he added, wistfully, “that another Crusade may come along soon?”
“Ah, my son, who can say? Tribulation is our meted heritage. Were thy thoughts more high, the going of thy liquors would not cause thee such sorrow. Learn to enjoy the pure cold water.”
“Good-afternoon,” said the Baron.
When all the guests had departed and the door was shut safe behind them, the Father and his holy companions broke into loud mirth. “The Malvoisie is drunk up,” said they; “to-night we’ll pay his lordship’s cellars another visit.”