what would you say?"

"Come out of earshot of the others, and I will tell you," replied
Demdike. And he led the abbot's horse to some distance further on the
hill.

"Your cause will fail, lord abbot," he then said. "Nay, it is lost
already."

"Lost!" cried the abbot, out of all patience. "Lost! Look around. Twenty
fires are in sight--ay, thirty, and every fire thou seest will summon a
hundred men, at the least, to arms. Before an hour, five hundred men
will be gathered before the gates of Whalley Abbey."

"True," replied Demdike; "but they will not own the Earl of Poverty for
their leader."

"What leader will they own, then?" demanded the abbot, scornfully.

"The Earl of Derby," replied Demdike. "He is on his way thither with
Lord Mounteagle from Preston."

"Ha!" exclaimed Paslew, "let me go meet them, then. But thou triflest
with me, fellow. Thou canst know nothing of this. Whence gott'st thou
thine information?"

"Heed it not," replied the other; "thou wilt find it correct. I tell
thee, proud abbot, that this grand scheme of thine and of thy fellows,
for the restitution of the Catholic Church, has failed--utterly failed."