“Not so,” said Torfrida, “it is well as it is. How better? It is his only chance for comfort, for honor, for life itself. He would have grown a--I was growing bad and foul myself in that ugly wilderness. Now he will be a knight once more among knights, and win himself fresh honor in fresh fields. Let him marry her. Why not? He can get a dispensation from the Pope, and then there will be no sin in it, you know. If the Holy Father cannot make wrong right, who can? Yes. It is very well as it is. And I am very well where I am. Women! bring me scissors, and one of your nun’s dresses. I am come to be a nun like you.” Godiva would have stopped her. But Torfrida rose upon her knees, and calmly made a solemn vow, which, though canonically void without her husband’s consent, would, she well knew, never be disputed by any there; and as for him,--“He has lost me; and forever. Torfrida never gives herself away twice.” “There’s carnal pride in those words, my poor child,” said Godiva. “Cruel!” said she, proudly. “When I am sacrificing myself utterly for him.” “And thy poor girl?” “He will let her come hither,” said Torfrida with forced calm. “He will see that it is not fit that she should grow up with--yes, he will send her to me--to us. And I shall live for her--and for you. If you will let me be your bower woman, dress you, serve you, read to you. You know that I am a pretty scholar. You will let me, mother? I may call you mother, may I not?” And Torfrida fondled the old woman’s thin hands, “For I do want so much something to love.” “Love thy heavenly bridegroom, the only love worthy of woman!” said Godiva, as her tears fell fast on Torfrida’s head. She gave a half-impatient toss. “That may come, in good time. As yet it is enough to do, if I can keep down this devil here in my throat. Women, bring me the scissors.” And Torfrida cut off her raven locks, now streaked with gray, and put on the nun’s dress, and became a nun thenceforth. On the second day there came to Crowland Leofric the priest, and with him the poor child. She had woke in the morning and found no mother. Leofric and the other men searched the woods round, far and wide. The girl mounted her horse, and would go with them. Then they took a bloodhound, and he led them to Grimkel’s hut. There they heard of Martin. The ghost must have been Torfrida. Then the hound brought them to the river. And they divined at once that she was gone to Crowland, to Godiva; but why, they could not guess. Then the girl insisted, prayed, at last commanded them to take her to Crowland. And to Crowland they came. Leofric left the girl at the nun’s house door, and went into the monastery, where he had friends enow, runaway and renegade as he was. As he came into the great court, whom should he meet but Martin Lightfoot, in a lay brother’s frock. “Aha? And are you come home likewise? Have you renounced the Devil and this last work of his?”