asked in her rich, low voice, which, perhaps because of its
foreign accent, seemed quite different to that of any other
woman.

"I think so, Rosamund," he answered. "It would serve to pass the
time, and now that you have finished gathering those yellow
flowers which we rode so far to seek, the time--is somewhat
long."

"Shame on you, Wulf," she said, smiling. "Look upon yonder sea and
sky, at that sheet of bloom all gold and purple--"

"I have looked for hard on half an hour, Cousin Rosamund; also at
your back and at Godwin's left arm and side-face, till in truth I
thought myself kneeling in Stangate Priory staring at my father's
effigy upon his tomb, while Prior John pattered the Mass. Why,
if you stood it on its feet, it is Godwin, the same crossed hands
resting on the sword, the same cold, silent face staring at the
sky."

"Godwin as Godwin will no doubt one day be, or so he hopes--that
is, if the saints give him grace to do such deeds as did our
sire," interrupted his brother.

Wulf looked at him, and a curious flash of inspiration shone in
his blue eyes.

"No, I think not," he answered; "the deeds you may do, and
greater, but surely you will lie wrapped not in a shirt of mail,
but with a monk's cowl at the last--unless a woman robs you of it