perceive what a dark beauty she was. Pale she was, no doubt, except
when she blushed; but this she did as freely as hill-side clouds in
March.

"Where is your wedding-ring, my child?" he asked her, when he had
noticed that it was not where he had put it.

"Lord, it is here," said she, blushing again. She drew from her neck a
fine gold chain whereon were the ring and another trinket which beamed
like glass.

Is that where you would have it, Isoult?"

"Yes, lord," she answered. "For this present it must be there."

"As you will," said Prosper. "Let us break our fast and make ready,
for we must be on our journey before we see the sun." Isoult went into
the cottage as Brother Bonaccord came out with good-morning all over
his puckered face.

Isoult brought bread and goats'-milk cheese, and they broke their fast
sitting on the threshold, while the sun slowly rose behind the house
and lit up the ground before them--a broken moorland with heather-
clumps islanded in pools of black water. The white forest mist hid
every distance and the air was shrewdly cold; but Prosper and the
friar gossiped cheerfully as they munched.

"We friars," said Brother Bonaccord, "have been accused of a foible
for wedding-rings. I grant you I had rather marry a healthy couple
than leave them aching, and that the sooner there's a christening the