The soldiers, confident in superiority of numbers, paused.

The abbot took advantage of the pause to introduce a word of exhortation.

"My children," said he, "if you are going to cut each other's throats, I entreat you, in the name of peace and charity, to do it out of the chapel." "Sweet Matilda," said the earl, "did you give your love to the Earl of Huntingdon, whose lands touch the Ouse and the Trent, or to Robert Fitz-Ooth, the son of his mother ?" "Neither to the earl nor his earldom," answered Matilda firmly, "but to Robert Fitz-Ooth and his love." "That I well knew," said the earl; "and though the ceremony be incomplete, we are not the less married in the eye of my only saint, our Lady, who will yet bring us together.

Lord Fitzwater, to your care, for the present, I commit your daughter .-- Nay, sweet Matilda, part we must for a while; but we will soon meet under brighter skies, and be this the seal of our faith." He kissed Matilda's lips, and consigned her to the baron, who glowered about him with an expression of countenance that showed he was mortally wroth with somebody; but whatever he thought or felt he kept to himself.
The earl, with a sign to his followers, made a sudden charge on the soldiers, with the intention of cutting his way through.

The soldiers were prepared for such an occurrence, and a desperate skirmish succeeded.