‘“Look, look,” they cried, “Jesu! look,” and they pointed upwards. ‘The minstrel turned and gazed. ‘“Christ be merciful to me, a sinner,” cried a man hoarsely from the crowd. ‘“Amen.” ‘“The Lord deliver us from evil.” ‘“Amen.” ‘Castle Beaumont had disappeared. The great hill on which it had stood was covered with ancient trees even to its summit; a clear, still sky lay over it, against which a dozen black rooks flapped lazily homewards to their nests. The wide water reflected sky and hill and ancient forest as though in a quiet and eternal mirror. The minstrel fell upon his knees and sobbed as though his heart would break.’ * * * * * ‘Ah-h-h,’ said Watkin, drawing a long breath as the Friar concluded. ‘’Tis certain,’ said Long Hugh solemnly, after a long pause, ‘that the ways of the Lord are wonderful and not to be scanned.’ ‘Good fellows all,’ said the Friar, ‘and you in especial, Ralph of the Skeely-Eye, we see by this true and notable ensample----’ ‘Ah,’ interrupted Ralph, recovering from a fit of stupid amazement,--‘Ah, but be it true, Master Friar, be it true?’ ‘As true as Holy Writ,’ said the Friar. ‘Didst thou know the castle?’ asked Ralph. ‘Nay, but the man who told me the tale swore to its truth by the bones of the Holy Saint Thomas.’ ‘’Tis Gospel truth,’ quoth the stranger from the corner, where he sipped his warmed ale, and breaking in on the conversation for the first time. ‘I knew the castle well, and have been therein often myself.’ Meg of Four Lane Ends I