Magdalen changed her position so as to get a view of the faces of the speakers, but trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. She noticed a flush pass over Bowerman’s face as he bit his lip, but said nothing, only he felt the edge of a sword he had been scouring. "We’ll make better work of it, Simon, this time--eh?" "Faith we will, or you may call me landlubber for the rest of my days. I owe him a grudge for having had me put in the stocks for nothing at all. ’Tis a chance will never come again. Think of his being such a fool as to trust hisself alone in a fight with our master. But he won’t live long to repent it, if I get this knife into him," added the man, with an ugly "job" of the blade into a balk of timber on which he was sitting. Magdalen shuddered. What were they talking about? She dreaded to think. There was something terrible going to take place. How should she find out? She resolved to ask her father. She stepped past the two men, and entered the cave. She found her father busied with the unusual and difficult operation of writing. He took no notice of her, and she sat still by his side, watching him laboriously forming his awkward letters. "Father, can’t I help you?" she ventured to say at last. "What, little wench, you here still? I thought you were gone long since. What will the worthy Prioress say?" "Oh, she won’t mind; she bid me stay as long as I could help thee. But Sister Agnes looks most after me." "Ay, and who is Sister Agnes? But there," seeing the child was going to enter upon a long account of her doings at the nunnery, "I am parlous busy now. Thou canst stay an thou mindest, and in the evening Bowerman can see thee on thy way home." This was not at all to Magdalen’s taste. "But may I not aid thee now, father? Thou knowest I can write; and I have become a better scribe lately?" "Hast thou so, my little wench?" said her father, stroking her head. "But these are matters beyond thee." He paused, and then went on. "Magdalen, my child, thou wilt always be a good girl, and do what the worthy Prioress tells thee. If aught taketh me away, thou wilt mind what I have said, and there will be those who will care for thee. Thou must learn to look kindly on Master Bowerman, and thy fortunes may one day be happier than now seemeth likely. But leave me now; I must settle these matters, and the time is not over long." Magdalen, well knowing the reserved nature of her father, and not caring for the escort of Master Bowerman, especially after what she had overheard, resolved to go back to the nunnery; but she also made up her mind she would see the Hermit of St Catherine’s on her way, and tell him of her anxiety. She therefore took leave of her father, who seemed more affectionate than usual; and declining Bowerman’s offer of accompanying her, she climbed the difficult path up the cliff, and disappeared over the brow of the gorge. *CHAPTER XX.*