“I think so also,” answered the Prior; “but Satan is very strong.” Then Wulf also returned to the altar rails, and the full Mass was sung, and the Sacrament received by the two neophytes, and the offerings made all in their appointed order. Next they were led back to the Priory to rest and eat a little after their long night’s vigil in the cold church, and here they abode awhile, thinking their own thoughts, seated alone in the Prior’s chamber. At length Wulf, who seemed to be ill at ease, rose and laid his hand upon his brother’s shoulder, saying: “I can be silent no more; it was ever thus: that which is in my mind must out of it. I have words to say to you.” “Speak on, Wulf,” said Godwin. Wulf sat himself down again upon his stool, and for a while stared hard at nothing, for he did not seem to find it easy to begin this talk. Now Godwin could read his brother’s mind like a book, but Wulf could not always read Godwin’s, although, being twins who had been together from birth, their hearts were for the most part open to each other without the need of words. “It is of our cousin Rosamund, is it not?” asked Godwin presently. “Ay. Who else?” “And you would tell me that you love her, and that now you are a knight—almost—and hard on five-and twenty years of age, you would ask her to become your affianced wife?” “Yes, Godwin; it came into my heart when she rode the grey horse into the water, there upon the pier, and I thought that I should never see her any more. I tell you it came into my heart that life was not worth living nor death worth dying without her.” “Then, Wulf,” answered Godwin slowly, “what more is there to say? Ask on, and prosper. Why not? We have some lands, if not many, and Rosamund will not lack for them. Nor do I think that our uncle would forbid you, if she wills it, seeing that you are the properest man and the bravest in all this country side.” “Except my brother Godwin, who is all these things, and good and learned to boot, which I am not,” replied Wulf musingly. Then there was silence for a while, which he broke. “Godwin, our ill-luck is that you love her also, and that you thought the same thoughts which I did yonder on the quay-head.” Godwin flushed a little, and his long fingers tightened their grip upon his knee. “It is so,” he said quietly. “To my grief it is so. But Rosamund knows nothing of this, and should never know it if you will keep a watch upon your tongue. Moreover, you need not be jealous of me, before marriage or after.” “What, then, would you have me do?” asked Wulf hotly. “Seek her heart, and perchance—though this I doubt—let her yield it to me, she thinking that you care naught for her?” “Why not?” asked Godwin again, with a sigh; “it might save her some pain and you some doubt, and make my own path clearer. Marriage is more to you than to me, Wulf, who think sometimes that my sword should be my spouse and duty my only aim.”