"Nay, dear Mary, I doubt it not," replied Sir John Grey; "by calumny and malice, all men may be for a time misled; but henceforth, my child, no one shall do him better justice than myself. You judged from acts that you had often seen and known; I had none such to judge by. But should he need defence hereafter, let him appeal to me. This must seem strange to you, my good lord," he continued, turning to the Count of St. Paul; "but we will explain it all hereafter. All, at least, that we can explain--for here is something that we must inquire into as best we may. This letter has been forged for some base end; but by whom, or for what, remains a mystery, though perhaps we may all suspect." "Everything else seems clear enough," said the Count, with a smile; "though I understand but half you have said, yet I guess well, here has been love, and, as so often happens with love, love's traverses; and, in the end, the happy meed which attends due knightly service to a fair lady. As soon as my noble cousin appears, though by my faith he is somewhat long in coming--" "I see his train, my lord, or I am blind," said the old man-at-arms, called Carloman. "Do you not perceive a long black line winding on there down from the hills, near a league distant, like a lean serpent?" "No very sweet comparison for a Prince's train," exclaimed the Count of St. Paul, laughing; "but faith, I see it not. Ah--yes--I catch it now. 'Tis he, 'tis doubtless he. Then when he comes, sir knight, we will on to Charleville, where, having dried our dripping clothes, we will tell the tale of this day's adventure over a pleasant meal: and will inquire how this deceit has taken place. Has yon young novice nought to do with it?" he continued, dropping his voice; "he holds aloof; and though he seems to murmur something to his rosary from time to time, yet, good faith, I put but small trust in the honesty of mumbling friars." "No, no," replied Mary Grey, with a smile, "I will answer for him." "Ah, ha!" cried the Count, laughing loud, with the rude jocularity of the day, "look to your lady, Sir Richard, or you may lose her yet. She answers for the honesty of a monk! By my fay, sweet lady, I would rather beard John the Bold in his house at Dijon, than do so rash a thing." "But I can answer for him, too," replied Sir John Grey, gravely; "for, though he be now my clerk, he was not with me there, and so had no occasion to deceive me, even had he been disposed. But yonder, assuredly, comes the Count. I can see banners and pennons through the dim shower; but how we are to journey on with you to Charleville I hardly know, my good lord: for all but what we have brought in our pouches--horses and clothes and arms, and many a trinket, have gone down in that poor mill." "I saw no horses in the stream," said Woodville.