“I am Torfrida,” said a voice of terrible calm. “I am come to see the Lady Godiva. Let me in.” The portress opened, utterly astounded. “Madam?” said Martin eagerly, as Torfrida entered. “What? What?” She seemed to waken from a dream. “God bless thee, thou good and faithful servant”; and she turned again. “Madam? Say!” “What?” “Shall I go back and kill him?” And he held out the little axe. Torfrida snatched it from his grasp with a shriek, and cast it inside the convent door. “Mother Mary and all saints!” cried the portress, “your garments are in rags, madam!” “Never mind. Bring me garments of yours. I shall need none other till I die!” and she walked in and on. “She is come to be a nun!” whispered the portress to the next sister, and she again to the next; and they all gabbled, and lifted up their hands and eyes, and thanked all the saints of the calendar, over the blessed and miraculous conversion of the Lady Torfrida, and the wealth which she would probably bring to the convent. Torfrida went straight on, speaking to no one, not even to the prioress; and into Lady Godiva’s chamber. There she dropped at the countess’s feet, and laid her head upon her knees. “I am come, as you always told me I should do. But it has been a long way hither, and I am very tired.” “My child! What is this? What brings you here?” “I am doing penance for my sins.” “And your feet all cut and bleeding.” “Are they?” said Torfrida, vacantly. “I will tell you all about it when I wake.” And she fell fast asleep, with her head in Godiva’s lap. The countess did not speak or stir. She beckoned the good prioress, who had followed Torfrida in, to go away. She saw that something dreadful had happened; and prayed as she awaited the news. Torfrida slept for a full hour. Then she woke with a start. “Where am I? Hereward!” Then followed a dreadful shriek, which made every nun in that quiet house shudder, and thank God that she knew nothing of those agonies of soul, which were the lot of the foolish virgins who married and were given in marriage themselves, instead of waiting with oil in their lamps for the true Bridegroom. “I recollect all now,” said Torfrida. “Listen!” And she told the countess all, with speech so calm and clear, that Godiva was awed by the power and spirit of that marvellous woman. But she groaned in bitterness of soul. “Anything but this. Rather death from him than treachery. This last, worst woe had God kept in his quiver for me most miserable of women. And now his bolt has fallen! Hereward! Hereward! That thy mother should wish her last child laid in his grave!”