"Well, Father, how have you found our prisoners? I have strong hopes for the younger; he is but a child, and not yet hardened in iniquity, perhaps. Think you he is yet convinced of his folly? I heard such tales of Lollard wiles and witchcraft, that it behooved me to put them in safe keeping." Only yesterday had Father Paul talked with those children. Could it be possible that between one sunset and the succeeding one, so fearful a conflict could have been fought, so glorious a victory won? "Daughter," he replied, as soon as he could arrange his thoughts, "no bolts or bars can keep that younger child with us. There is a Deliverer approaching before whom we must all bow." "How, Father?" said the startled lady; "who is it will take them from my guardianship? Has the archbishop sent----" "Nay, daughter," said the priest solemnly; "the deliverer I spoke of is greater than he, and will pass through yonder dungeon walls without asking our favor. The lad is dying." "Dying!" Mother Beatrice appeared really shocked. "I meant not that; I may have kept them over strictly; they are but children." It may have been the kindly influences of Eastertide, it may have been the result of thoughts stirred up by the sermon she had just heard--whatever it was, the abbess was strangely softened. Father Paul saw this, and took advantage of it. "What shall I do, Father? They are heretics--enemies of our holy church." "Then, daughter," replied the monk very gravely, "think how Christ forgave his torturers, and let this be your Easter sacrifice, far more acceptable in his sight than the rushes with which you have strewn the chapel in memory of his resurrection. Let us forgive as we have been forgiven." *CHAPTER XVII.* _*A Midnight Supper.*_ At midnight on the preceding night, when the convent was still, and even the inmates of the dungeon under the east tower were sleeping, Geoffrey was aroused by a tap at the door which led into the inner cell. He did not seem at all surprised, but arose and opened it. As he expected, Kate stood on the other side, a white sheet thrown around her, and a lamp in one hand. The brilliancy of the light seemed to dazzle him for a moment, but perhaps it was Kate’s own bright face, looking in so suddenly on his loneliness. "I come, you see, as I promised," she said, passing him into the room, and setting down her lamp on the shelf occupied by the crucifix, which she pushed aside without scruple to make room. Then, with nimble fingers, she pinned a dark cloth over the window, lest the light shining without should betray them, and continued, as she unburdened herself of several packages: