"Well, that some have, and some have not. I have it, I know," said the Countess, complacently. "But I will give thee a bit of counsel, Madge, which thou mayest find useful. First, have a will: let it be clear and distinct in thine own mind, what thou wouldst have done. And, secondly, let people see that thou takest quietly for granted that of course they will do it. There is a great deal in that, with some people. A weak will always bends to a strong." "But when two strong ones come in collision, how then?" "Why, like wild animals,--fight it out, and discover which is the stronger." "A tournament of wills!" said Marjory. "I should hardly care to enter those lists, I think." The Countess laughed, and shook her head. She knew that among the strong-willed women Marjory was not to be reckoned. A tournament of that class was being held all that summer between the regular priests and the newly-instituted Predicant Friars. The priests complained that the friars presumed to hear confessions in the churches, which it was the prerogative of the regularly appointed priests to do: and wrathfully alleged that the public were more ready to confess to these travelling mendicants than to the proper authorities. It is possible that the cause may be traced to that human proclivity which inclines a man to confide rather in a stranger whom he may never meet again, than in one who can remind him of uncomfortable facts at inconvenient times: but also it is possible that the people recognised in the teaching of the Minorite Friars, largely recruited as they were from the ranks of the Waldenses, somewhat more of that good news which Christ came to bring to men, than of the endless, unmeaning ceremonies which encumbered the doctrine of the regular priests. The summer had given place to autumn. The courtyard of Bury Castle was strewn with golden and russet leaves; the Countess was preparing a new dress for the feast of Saint Luke. A foggy day had ended in a dark night, and Eva threw down her work and rethreaded her needle with a long-drawn sigh. "Tired of sewing, Eva?" "Very tired, Lady. I almost wish buttons grew on robes, and required no sewing." "Lazy maiden!" said the Countess playfully. "Then I am lazy too," interposed Margaret; "for I do hate sewing." "If it please the Lady," said Levina's voice at the door, "an old man and woman entreat the honour of laying a petition before her." "An old man and woman?--such a night as this! Do they come from the town?" "If it please the Lady, I do not know." "Very well. If the warder thinks them not suspicious persons, they can come into the hall. I shall be down shortly." When the Countess descended, followed by Margaret and Doucebelle, she found her petitioners awaiting her. Most unsuspicious, harmless, feeble creatures they looked. The old man had tottered in as if barely able to stand; the old woman walked with a stout oaken staff, and was bent nearly double.