“John, whatever thou hearest on that score, believe it not.  I will die sooner than be wedded to that man.  I hate him.  I fear him —­ yes, I do fear him, I will not deny it —­ I fear him for his wickedness, his evil practices, his diabolic cruelty, of which I hear fearful whispers from time to time.  He may be rich beyond all that men credit.  I doubt not he has many a dark and hideous method of wringing gold from his wretched victims.  Basildene holds terrible secrets; and never will I enter that house by my own free will.  Never will I wed that man, not if I have to plunge this dagger into mine own heart to save myself from him.  I know what is purposed.  I know that he and his father have some strange power over my sire and my brother, and that they will do all they can to bend my will to theirs.  But I have two hopes yet before me.  One is appeal to the King, through his gentle and gracious Queen; another is the Convent —­ for sooner would I take the veil (little as the life of the recluse charms me) than sell myself to utter misery as the wife of that man.  Death shall call me its bride before that day shall come.  Yet I would not willingly take my life, and go forth unassoiled and unshriven.  No; I will try all else first.  And in thee, good John, I know I shall find a trusty and a stalwart friend and champion.”

“Trusty in all truth, fair lady, but stalwart I fear John de Brocas will never be.  Rather enlist in thy service yon gallant youth, who has already distinguished himself in helping to save the Prince in the moment of peril.  I trow he would be glad enough to be thy champion in days to come.  He has, moreover, a score of his own to settle one day with the present Master of Basildene.”

Joan’s bright eyes turned quickly upon Raymond, who had flushed with boyish pride and pleasure and shame at hearing himself thus praised.  He eagerly protested that he was from that time forward Mistress Joan’s loyal servant to command; and at the prompting of John, he revealed to her the fact of his own claim on Basildene (without naming his kinship with the house of De Brocas), and gave an animated account of the recent visit to the woodman’s hut, and told the story of his cruel wrongs.

Joan listened with flashing eyes and ever-varying colour.  At the close of the tale she spoke.

“I have heard of that wretched boy —­ the tool and sport of the old man’s evil arts, the victim of the son’s diabolic cruelty when he has no other victim to torment.  They keep him for days without food at times, because they say that he responds better to their fiendish practices when the body is well-nigh reduced to a shadow.  Oh, I hear them talk!  My father is a dabbler in mystic arts.  They are luring him on to think he will one day learn the secret of the transmutation of metals, whilst I know they do but seek to make of him a tool, to subdue his will, and to do with him what they will.  They will strive to practise next on me —­ they have tried it already;