“You haven’t heard what I have,” he said, “or you would soon have an opinion.” “Yes, sir,” said Morris as impassively as before. “I tell you--” and then Ralph broke off, and rode on silent and moody. Mr. Morris gradually let his horse fall back behind his master. * * * * * They began to come towards Rusper as the evening drew in, by a bridle path that led from the west, and on arriving at the village found that they had overshot their mark, and ought to have turned sooner. The nunnery, a man told them, was a mile away to the south-west. Ralph made a few enquiries, and learnt that it was a smallish house, and that it was scarcely likely that room could be found for his party of four; so he left Morris to make enquiries for lodgings in the village, and himself rode on alone to the nunnery, past the church and the timberhouses. It was a bad road, and his tired horse had to pick his way very slowly, so that it was nearly dark before he came to his destination, and the pointed roofs rose before him against the faintly luminous western sky. There were lights in one or two windows as he came up that looked warm and homely in the chill darkness; and as he sat on his horse listening to the jangle of the bell within, just a breath of doubtfulness touched his heart for a moment as he thought of the peaceful home-life that lay packed within those walls, and of the errand on which he had come. But the memory of the tales he had heard, haunted him still; and he spoke in a harsh voice as the shutter slid back, and a little criss-crossed square of light appeared in the black doorway. “I am one of the King’s Visitors,” he said. “Let my Lady Abbess know I am here. I must speak with her.” There was a stifled sound behind the grating; and Ralph caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes looking at him. Then the square grew dark again. It was a minute or two before anything further happened, and Ralph as he sat cold and hungry on his horse, began to grow impatient. His hand was on the twisted iron handle to ring again fiercely, when there was a step within, and a light once more shone out. “Who is it?” said an old woman’s voice, with a note of anxiety in it. “I have sent word in,” said Ralph peevishly, “that I am one of the King’s Visitors. I should be obliged if I might not be kept here all night.” There was a moment’s silence; the horse sighed sonorously. “How am I to know, sir?” said the voice again. “Because I tell you so,” snapped Ralph. “And if more is wanted, my name is Torridon. You have a sister of mine in there.” There was an exclamation from within; and the sound of whispering; and then hasty footsteps went softly across the paved court inside. The voice spoke again. “I ask your pardon, sir; but have you any paper--or--”