But Ralph, who, as we may suppose, was minded to imitate the evolutions of his master, being it seemed of a more heavy and considerate demeanour, paused for a space ere he leapt.

This deliberation was fatal to his enterprise.  The enemy, recovering from their confusion, seized him in default of his master, and without further ado bore him away as a visible acquittance of themselves to the abbot.  There could be no great harm in throwing the blame of this unlucky affair on the companion of the escaped incendiary:  besides, it would be an effective lesson to him on the danger of keeping bad company.

Through bog and brake, over moor and mountain, they hurried on with their prisoner, who, dooming them all to “clootie” and his imps, and commending himself to Michael, Mary, and a number of his especial patrons in the Romish calendar, was urged forward with more than their usual speed.

The blaze had ceased to be visible when they came to the last descent towards the village.  Far and wide the alarm had spread; consternation and inquiry were on every countenance.  The guards were besieged with anxious faces, supplicating intelligence, and much impeded thereby in their progress to the abbey.

Outside the gates they found a dense crowd waiting for the news.  The abbot and his brethren were in close council, expecting every moment the arrival of warders from the beacon.

They were hurried into the chapter-house, together with their prisoner, who had now taken to the sulks, refusing any reply to the numerous inquiries made by the servants who followed, eager for the final disclosure.

The room was lighted by a single lamp.  Little of the interior was visible, save the grim and ascetic faces of the monks who sat nearest to the centre of illumination.  Their features, in deep masses of alternate light and shadow, looked as if carved out, hard and immovable, from the oak wainscot.  Occasionally, a dull roll of the eye relieved the oppressive stillness, and the gazer would look out from the mystic world he inhabited, through these loop-holes of sense, into the world of sympathies and affections, with which he had long ceased to hold communion.

Paslew was standing when they entered.  His bushy grey eyebrows threw a strange and almost unnatural shade over the deep recesses beneath, across which, at times, like the foam swept over the dark billows of the spirit, a light and glowing track was visible, marking the powerful conflict within.

“Nicholas Dewhurst and Daniel Haydock.”

He shaded his eyes from the light, as he thus addressed the foremost of the party who had just entered.

“From what quarter was the signal first visible?”

“My lord,” said Dan, “we are but unworthy of your highness’ grace, did we not answer truly.”

“Quick!—­Thou art slower to thine answers than thy words.  Why tarriest thou?”

“If your highness will pardon”—­