It was fearful news, for Pierce well knew his own incompetence to restrain these strong and violent men. He did not know where his knight was to be found, and, if he had known, it was only too likely that these terrible intentions might be carried out before any messenger could reach him. Indeed, the belief in sorcery was universal, and no rank was exempt from the danger of the accusation. Thora’s treachery was specially perilous. All that the young man could do was to seek counsel with Cuthbert Ridley, and even this he was obliged to do in the stable, bidding Dick keep watch outside. Ridley too had heard a spiteful whisper or two, but it had seemed too preposterous for him to attend to it. “You are young, Hardcastle,” he said, with a smile, “or you would know that there is nothing a grumbler will not say, nor how far men’s tongues lie from their hands.” “Nay, but if their hands _did_ begin to act, how should we save the lady? There’s nothing Tordu would not do. Could we get her away to some nunnery?” “There is no nunnery nearer at hand than Gateshead, and there the Prioress is a Musgrove, no friend to my lord. She might give her up, on such a charge, for holy Church is no guardian in them. My poor bairn! That ingrate Thora too! I would fain wring her neck! Yet here are our fisher folk, who love her for her bounty.” “Would they hide her?” asked Pierce. “That serving-wench—would I had drowned her ere bringing her here—might turn them, and, were she tracked, I ken not who might not be scared or tortured into giving her up!” Here Dick looked in. “Tordu is crossing the yard,” he said. They both became immediately absorbed in studying the condition of Featherstone’s horse, which had never wholly recovered the flight from Wakefield. After a time Ridley was able to steal away, and visit Grisell in her apartment. She came to meet him, and he read alarm, incredulous alarm, in her face. She put her hands in his. “Is it sooth?” she said, in a strange, awe-stricken voice. “You have heard, then, my wench?” “Thora speaks in a strange tone, as though evil were brewing against me. But you, and Master Hardcastle, and Sir Lucas, and the rest would never let them touch me?” “They should only do so through my heart’s blood, dear child; but mine would be soon shed, and Hardcastle is a weakly lad, whom those fellows believe to be bewitched. We must find some other way!” “Sir Leonard would save me if he knew. Alas! the good Earl of Salisbury is dead.” “’Tis true. If we could hide you till we be rid of these men. But where?” and he made a despairing gesture. Grisell stood stunned and dazed as the horrible prospect rose before her of being seized by these lawless men, tortured by the savage hands of the witch-finder, subjected to a cruel death, by fire, or at best by water. She pressed her hands together, feeling utterly desolate, and prayed her prayer to the God of the fatherless to save her or brace her to endure.