“Naught,” answered the bishop, promptly. “Naught but desire for the best for Egwina. Wonderfully hath she been favored. It can be for naught else than that she should devote her life to the service of Heaven.” “Denewulf, hast thou gone daft?” demanded Adiva, with some asperity. “Egwina a nun? I trow not!” “But, Adiva,” said the gentle voice of Egwina, “why have I been so favored? Not even a scar, as thou knowest, nor mark of any kind. I felt that God would show mine innocence, but so marked was His favor that it hath troubled me to know the cause. It may be that for this service was I thus favored.” “And dost thou think of becoming a nun?” cried the dame, in consternation. “If Denewulf thinketh best, and that for this cause was the miracle performed, I will so do,” answered the maiden. “It hath weighed upon my mind,” said the bishop, “and it doth seem to me, Egwina, that it hath been intended by that sign that thou shouldst become the bride of the church.” “Out upon such nonsense!” exclaimed the dame, with energy. “No miracle was there save only what I, with the help of thy foster-mother, Gunnehilde, worked.” “Adiva!” exclaimed both Egwina and the bishop in a breath. “What meanest thou?” “I mean,” said the dame, “that I was not willing to have thy pretty arm seared, so I sent to Gunnehilde, and she concocted me a lotion. Every night did I bathe hand and arm. The last night, child, the salve which thou didst find me using was but the final touch. Already the lotion had done its work, and thou mightest have carried red-hot iron thy nine feet and back, and no scar would there have been. Out upon it for a miracle!” “Woman! thou hast profaned the judgment of the Supreme One,” said her husband, sternly, while Egwina sank back overcome. “Profaned? Not at all,” answered the dame, defiantly. “Did it not bring the guilty to punishment? The woman confessed, and the juggler is even now upon his pilgrimage. Egwina was shown innocent—as she was. How, then, have I profaned the judgment?” “Thou must do penance,” said Denewulf. “Penance?” retorted Adiva. “Not I. What good doth it do me to be a bishop’s wife if I am to do penance as an ordinary body? Keep thy penance for such as need them, Denewulf.” “But mine innocence?” cried poor Egwina. “Happy have I been to think that God did stoop to so favor me.” “Now, more than ever, do I think that thou shouldst enter the cloister,” said the bishop. “’Tis true that the guilty were brought to punishment and thy innocence proven; but what if the ealdorman, the gerefa, and the people knew of this. Thinkest thou that they would think it just? Either, my child, thou must again take the ordeal or thou must retire to the cloister. I see naught else to be done,” and he left the room. “Thou to the nunnery?” cried the dame, indignantly. “Well-a-day! We shall see, my lord bishop. Neither ordeal nor cloister shall there be for my pretty one!”