Flying, she had dropped her mantle. Brother Norbert, Brother Anselm and their terrified white faces! Brother Anselm coming after her, out of the cell, down the stone passage. Another coming after, great torch in his hand, smoke and flame streaming backward his face like Death and Judgment! Brother Anselm’s breathing on her cheek, his hand seizing, pushing her, who needed no urging, for now she knew panic. The outward-giving porter’s cell that they used--the door, quick! Through, clap it to behind, draw bolt across--opposite door, quick! Short passage again, the little postern. Anselm had the key, Brother Edward the porter sleeping elsewhere this night. Open--open! Morgen Fay knew agony until she saw the stars over Abbey orchard. Wall and the ivy tods which made no ladder necessary. Up! and on wide wall-top rest a moment, breathe and look back. Bell was ringing, lights hurried here, hurried there in Abbey, but the orchard between lay still, at peace and bathed in moonlight. Down the wall on forest side, where footholds had been cunningly made. Brother Anselm spoke. “I will work them over so that even they cannot be found.” “Through the poplar wood there is a path,” she said. “Go back, and I will run alone to the ruined farm. Never--never--never more, Morgen Fay!” They spoke in whispers. “Aye, it is better. God knoweth what trouble we shall have now! But you, mistress, you will be dumb?” “Oh, aye! All night, on pallet, under eaves, in the ruined farm, I was stretched so fast asleep! I dreamed only of my house by the river and my garden where now are blooming pinks and marigold!” “Better that than dream of red flame!” said Anselm. “Haste now!” He slipped back over the wall; she was in poplar wood. The moon shone so that she could find her way. Thin wood gave into deep wood, beech, oak. Her feet felt the slight path. A doe and fawn started from her, hare bounded across, owl hooted, moon shone and light was beaten by branch and leaf into thousands and thousands of silver pieces. She ran; she felt drunken.