Not this woman, as I trust," and he frowned at Emlyn, who at once answered, in her steady voice-- "Nay, my Lord Abbot, I stand not between her and God and His holiness, but between her and man and his iniquity.

Still I can tell you of that obstacle--which comes from God--if you so need." Now the old Prioress, blushing to her white hair, bent forward and whispered in the Abbot's ear words at which he sprang up as though a wasp had stung him.
"Pest on it! it cannot be," he said.

"Well, well, there it is, and must be swallowed with the rest.

Pity, though," he added, with a sneer on his dark face, "since many a year has gone by since these walls have seen a bastard, and, as things are, that may pull them down about your ears." "I know such brats are dangerous," interrupted Emlyn, looking Maldon full in the eyes; "my father told me of a young monk in Spain--I forget his name--who brought certain ladies to the torture in some such matter.
But who talks of bastards in the case of Dame Cicely Harflete, widow of Sir Christopher Harflete, slain by the Abbot of Blossholme ?" "Silence, woman.

Where there is no lawful marriage there can be no lawful child----" "To take that lawful inheritance that it lawfully inherits.