“God keep you,” she answered him in her heart.
He went away into the world at a gallop, as though it was easier to leave her thus in the gold and green of a summer morning.
Aymery had been gone but half an hour when a monk and two lay brethren came hurrying over Mountjoye Hill. Their figures looked dark, intent, outlined against the virginal clearness of the dawn. The monk was Dom Silvius, and his eyes were sharp and watchful.
He came alone to Denise’s cell, leaving the two lay brothers at the gate in the hedge. Denise was washing her neck and bosom; she had closed the door, and suffered Silvius to speak to her from without. She soon learnt that he had heard of Aymery’s coming, and that he desired to discover the reason thereof.
“It was one who rode here, Father, to have his arms blessed. He is on the eve of knighthood, and kept his vigil in the wood, yonder.”
Silvius’s face was very astute, he stroked his chin and considered. There was nothing of the dreamer about him that morning.
“And the offering, Sister, the offering?”
Denise did not choose to understand.
“What offering, Father?”
“That which the man left, for the blessing.”