“This is indeed Sir Cuthbert,” the abbess said, “your old playfellow, and the husband destined for you by your father and by the will of the king.”

Struck with a new timidity, the girl advanced, and, according to the custom of the times, held up her cheek to be kissed.  Cuthbert was almost as timid as herself.

“I feel, Lady Margaret,” he said, “a deep sense of my own unworthiness of the kindness and honor which the dear lord your father bestowed upon me; and were it not that many dangers threaten, and that it were difficult under the circumstances to find one more worthy of you, I would gladly resign you into the hands of such a one were it for your happiness.  But believe me that the recollection of your face has animated me in many of the scenes of danger in which I have been placed; and although even in fancy my thoughts scarcely ventured to rise so high, yet I felt as a true knight might feel for the lady of his love.”

“I always liked you, Sir Cuthbert,” the girl said frankly, “better than any one else next to my father, and gladly submit myself to his will.  My own inclinations indeed, so far as is maidenly, go with his.  These are troubled times,” she said anxiously, “and our holy mother tells me that you fear some danger is overhanging me.”

“I trust that the danger may not be imminent,” Cuthbert answered.  “But knowing the unscrupulous nature of the false Earl of Evesham, I fear that the news that King Richard is found will bestir him to early action.  But you can rely, dear lady, on a careful watch being kept over you night and day; and should any attempt be made to carry you away, or to put force upon you, be assured that assistance will be at hand.  Even should any attempt succeed, do not lose heart, for rescue will certainly be attempted; and I must be dead, and my faithful followers crushed, before you can become the bride of Sir Rudolph.”

Then turning to other subjects, he talked to her of the life he had led since he last saw her.  He told her of the last moments of her father, and of the gallant deeds he had done in the Holy Land.

After waiting for two hours, the abbess judged that the time for separation had arrived; and Cuthbert, taking a respectful adieu of his young mistress, and receiving the benediction of the abbess, departed.

He found Cnut on guard at the point where he had left him.

“Have you seen aught to give rise to suspicion?” Cuthbert asked.

“Yes,” Cnut said, “the place is undoubtedly watched.  Just after you had entered a man came from that house yonder and went up to the gate, as if he would fain learn by staring at its iron adornments the nature of him who had passed in.  Then he re-entered his house, and if I mistake not is still on the watch at that casement.  If we stand here for a minute or two, perchance he may come out to see what delays you in this dark corner, in which case I may well give him a clout with my ax which will settle his prying.”