'Reverend Mother,' expostulated Bertram, 'if you knew what some would
give to be on the scent of the wolf-cub!'

'I know not, nor do I wish to know, for what price a Selby would sell
his honour and his bowels of mercy,' said Mother Agnes. 'Come away,
Nan; thou hast done well.'

Bertram muttered something about having thought her a better Yorkist,
women not understanding, and mischief that might be brewing; but the
Prioress, taking Anne by the hand, went her way, leaving Bertram
standing confused.

'Oh, mother,' sighed Anne, 'do you think he will go after him? He
will think I was treacherous!'

'I doubt me whether he will dare,' said the Prioress. 'Moreover, it
is too late in the day for a search, and another snow-shower seems
coming up again. I cannot turn the youth, my kinsman, from my door,
and he is safer here than on his quest, but he shall see no more of
thee or me to-night. I may hold that Edward of March has the right,
but that does not mean hunting down an orphan child.'

'Mother, mother, you are good indeed!' cried Anne, almost weeping for
joy.

Bertram, though hurt and offended, was obliged by advance of evening
to remain all night in the hospitium, with only the chaplain to bear
him company, and it was reported that though he rode past Blackpool,
no trace of shepherd or hovel was found.