DOOMED It was the day of trial.

From dawn Cicely and Emlyn had seen people hurrying in and out of the gates of the Nunnery, and heard workmen making preparation in the guest-hall below their chamber.

About eight one of the nuns brought them their breakfast.

Her face was scared and white; she only spoke in whispers, looking behind her continually as though she knew she was being watched.
Emlyn asked who their judges were, and she answered-- "The Abbot, a strange, black-faced Prior, and the Old Bishop.

Oh! God help you, my sisters; God help us all!" and she fled away.
Now for a moment Emlyn's heart failed her, since before such a tribunal what chance had they?
The Abbot was their bitter enemy and accuser; the strange Prior, no doubt, one of his friends and kindred; while the ecclesiastic spoken of as the "Old Bishop" was well known as perhaps the cruelest man in England, a scourge of heretics--that is, before heresy became the fashion--a hunter-out of witches and wizards, and a time-server to boot.