She said. “That is true. I thank you there, Rob!” She broke a spray of hazel, set her teeth in the green wood, then threw it away. “Shall we say good-by now, you and I?” “Not just yet. Something has arisen since we sat here the other day. I have seen Prior Matthew.” “Aye?” “There is needed one more appearance. Question has arisen as to Saint Willebrod--if he rests still or if actively he aids! There are some who are devoted to him. Once more then!” “Oh, I will not!” His bright eyes dwelt upon her, all the lights played in his odd face. “Why not, Morgen? Be good-natured! I nor none am doing badly by you.” “What do you get from this?” “The old debatable land--and a piece that was not debatable. I love land! And I get playgoer’s enjoyment, watching from a good, quiet seat--and comfort that we’re all fruit just pleasantly specked and wasp-eaten--and some mirth from Montjoy’s ecstacy. So be good! What! There are houses by Thames in London. You may have a garden still--plant your rose tree there.” It was high May weather. As once before Thomas Bettany had errand up the Wander,--merchant errand of account-to-be-paid. This time it was with Oak Tree Grange beyond Silver Cross. He rode in the May tide and with him rode John Cobb, and they had done the errand. Oak Tree Grange lay out of the world, and now they were on a cart track, nothing more. Young Bettany rode light and happy on his big grey horse. May world was a fair world, fair, sweet, gay, kind! He whistled clear and strong. “I swear I saw God sitting on yon cloud!” Said John Cobb, “I’m going to Silver Cross to get this old scar taken off my face.” “Silver Cross. I don’t know.” They were riding by a wood, old, uncut, dim. “This is Somerville’s land now! He always claimed it, and now the Abbey allows it.” John Cobb looked about him. “I know now where we are. Over there, a mile through, is a ruined farm. Lonely! It’s so lonely you lose yourself--and there’s a ghost walks in the wood.” “Let’s go look.” John was not averse, being in the other’s company. They left cart track and rode over yielding earth under old trees. There was no path and the trees must be rounded. The way they had come sank from sight, almost it might seem from mind, so quick the place took them. Bettany’s blue eyes sparkled. He loved all this; he might come at any moment upon wizard’s tower. What indeed they came upon was another faint track, leading north and south. “Abbey is that way and Somerville Hall that way, and over there is the turn to the road we left. They come in and go out that way--but, Lord, there’s mortal little travel! You might say it’s a witched place.” “That is what I like!” said the other. “Oh, if I might I would travel far!” They rode as though it were bottom of the sea, it was so green and silent. Bettany turned in his saddle and studied the lay of the place. “When Somerville goes to Silver Cross I think he takes this way. It’s not so far.”