“At what charge?” blurted out Emlyn.

The old man turned on her indignantly, asking—­

“Cousin, how have I defrauded you or your mistress, that you should insult me to my face?  Go to! you do not trust me.  Go to, with your jewels, and seek some other helper!” and he went to the panelling as though to collect them again.

“Nay, nay, Master Smith,” said Cicely, catching him by the arm; “be not angry with Emlyn.  Remember that of late we have learned in a hard school, with Abbot Maldon and Dr. Legh for masters.  At least I trust you, so forsake me not, who have no other to whom to turn in all my troubles, which are many,” and as she spoke the great tears that had gathered in her blue eyes fell upon the child’s face, and woke him, so that she must turn aside to quiet him, which she was glad to do.

“Grieve not,” said the kind-hearted old man, in distress; “’tis I should grieve, whose brutal words have made you weep.  Moreover, Emlyn is right; even foolish women should not trust the first Jack with whom they take a lodging.  Still, since you swear that you do in your kindness, I’ll try to show myself not all unworthy, my Lady Harflete.  Now, what is it you want from the King?  Justice on the Abbot?  That you’ll get for nothing, if his Grace can give it, for this same Abbot stirs up rebellion against him.  No need, therefore, to set out his past misdeeds.  A clean title to your large inheritance, which the Abbot claims?  That will be more difficult, since the King claims through him.  At best, money must be paid for it.  A declaration that your marriage is good and your boy born in lawful wedlock?  Not so hard, but will cost something.  The annulment of the sentence of witchcraft on you both?  Easy, for the Abbot passed it.  Is there aught more?”

“Yes, Master Smith; the good nuns who befriended me—­I would save their house and lands to them.  Those jewels are pledged to do it, if it can be done.”

“A matter of money, Lady—­a mere matter of money.  You will have to buy the property, that is all.  Now, let us see what it will cost, if fortune goes with me,” and he took pen and paper and began to write down figures.

Finally he rose, sighing and shaking his head.  “Two thousand pounds,” he groaned; “a vast sum, but I can’t lessen it by a shilling—­there are so many to be bought.  Yes; L1000 in gifts and L1000 as loan to his Majesty, who does not repay.”

“Two thousand pounds!” exclaimed Cicely in dismay; “oh! how shall I find so much, whose first year’s rents are already pledged?”

“Know you the worth of those jewels?” asked Jacob, looking at her.

“Nay; the half of that, perhaps.”

“Let us say double that, and then right cheap.”

“Well, if so,” replied Cicely, with a gasp, “where shall we sell them?  Who has so much money?”

“I’ll try to find it, or what is needful.  Now, Cousin Emlyn,” he added sarcastically, “you see where my profit lies.  I buy the gems at half their value, and the rest I keep.”