"And learn to forget the past," spoke the mother to her sister, before leaving the patient in her kindly care. "She is full young for thoughts of love. Methinks in these troublous days the less a maid dreams of such things the better. Hugh le Barbier is a goodly youth, and I desire none better for child of mine; but he is above her in rank. When he sees more of life and of the world, he will make more fitting choice. It would be better that they should not meet--that both should learn to forget. Naught but trouble and peril have followed from their early affection. Better it should be put aside and forgotten. Wherefore I will the more gladly leave Linda here, where, amid new scenes and surroundings, she may well forget the past, and cease to think of him for whom she is no fitting spouse in the eyes of the world." Bridget Marlow, who had no child of her own, was willing enough to have the care of her sister's daughter. She promised to guard her jealously and tend her lovingly, and to keep her as long as her mother could spare her. "I always said, when I did hear of thy twin daughters, that one ought surely to be mine," she said with a smile. "Fear not for her, sister--I will guard her like the apple of mine eye; and she shall find a second father and mother in us. In this quiet place few, save the good monks of the Abbey hard by, pass our way. My husband, as thou dost know, acts as porter of the gate by day; and living as we do neath the shadow of the cloister wall, we are not molested by the comings and goings of worldlings from the city. The maid will have peace and quiet here, and may well forget the troubles through which she has passed." So Linda was, after a few days, left in that quiet place by her mother, in the fond hope that she and Hugh would now forget one another, and that the troubled dream of love would be effaced by illness from her daughter's brain. Lotta nodded with approval when she learned what had been done. "She had better take the veil herself, and live the life of a nun," she said, tossing her handsome, haughty head. "She is not fit for the battle of life. She is a poor, puling creature at best! She is not fit to be the bride of any save a man of dreams and books. The clash of arms turns her cheek white; the thought of peril to one she loves drives her out of her senses. She had better forget Hugh, and he her. They are no fitting mates one for the other." As for Hugh himself, he had been carried to the Castle by order of the Constable, when his case had been made known there. A guard had been sent to search the tower, to take possession of everything found there, and to convey the young man to the Castle, where he received every attention and care.