First the father, then the husband, and now the wife--the sweet, new-made wife!" So she raved on, while they stood before her dumb-founded, and the man lifted up Cicely.

Then suddenly this same Cicely, whom all thought dead, opened her eyes and struggled from his arms to her feet.
"See," screamed Emlyn; "did I not tell you that Harflete's seed should live to be avenged upon all your tribe, and she stands there who will bear it?
Now where shall we shelter till England hears this tale?
Cranwell is down, though it shall rise again, and Shefton is stolen.
Where shall we shelter ?" "Thrust away that woman," said the Abbot in a hoarse voice, "for her witchcrafts poison the air.

Set the Lady Cicely on a horse and bear her to our Nunnery of Blossholme, where she shall be tended." The men advanced to do his bidding, though very doubtfully.

But Emlyn, hearing his words, ran to the Abbot and whispered something in his ear in a foreign tongue that caused him to cross himself and stagger back from her.
"I have changed my mind," he said to the servants.

"Mistress Emlyn reminds me that between her and her lady there is the tie of foster-motherhood.