Magdalen, who was allowed very often to see her father, whose secret appeared fully known to the Prioress of the little community, and who belonged to a well-known Yorkist house, was dismayed to find how very intimate Bowerman had become, and was still more embarrassed to discover that he was desirous of ingratiating himself with her. One morning, about a month after the tourney, when she had come over earlier than usual, the girl noticed a decided stir going on in the little cave. Armour was being burnished up, and a couple of stout lances were being critically examined by her father. There was never much effort at keeping matters secret from Magdalen, and the conversation, or rather few remarks which fell from her father, were hardly interrupted by the arrival of the young girl, who brought over a supply of fresh butter and eggs, with a few other necessaries. Magdalen had always to be very careful when she came near the gorge, lest any stray country folk should see her. But this part of the island was thinly populated, and she had never yet met with any one. The Hermit of St Catherine’s knew her secret, and she looked upon the good old man as one of her best friends. While she was arranging the contents of her basket, she heard her father say,-- "Thou wilt see that all is ready, and in case of ill befalling, I trust to thy bearing this missive to Sir John Clifford. Dan will go with thee. The boat is all ready." "In sooth, my lord, I will do thy bidding. But I fear no mischance. I have seen myself thy prowess, and heard more. He cannot stand before thee for one course even." "Humph! ’Tis a good lance, and there are risks always; but I have my just cause, and I trust in the right." "Thou wilt have Dan and Simon there also?" "Ay, ay. They can come, and fully equipped, too; but they must take no part, whate’er betide." Magdalen noticed a peculiar look in Master Bowerman’s eye, and detected a meaning glance exchanged between him and the most sinister-looking of the seamen. What could they be talking about? she wondered. She always dreaded some terrible fate befalling her father. She knew his stern, fearless disposition, and she also knew that he nursed the most inveterate hatred to the Captain of the Wight. He had never told her why, but if ever his name were mentioned, she noticed that he seemed to lose all control over himself, and would utter the most dreadful maledictions on his name and family. "There is going to be some fearful fight, I know there is," she murmured. "Oh, if only I could find out when it takes place and where. Perhaps Bowerman would tell me. He seems to wish to please me; why, I don’t know."