“A rough man and a greedy, who doubtless henceforth will be your enemy,” replied Cromwell. “Still you were not to blame, for who can reason with a bull in his own yard? Well, while I have power I’ll not forget your faithfulness, though in truth, my Lady of Blossholme, I sit upon a slippery height, and beneath waits a gulf that has swallowed some as great, and greater. Therefore I will not deny it, I lay by while I may, not knowing who will gather.” He brooded a while, then went on, with a sigh-- “The times are uncertain; thus, you who have the promise of wealth may yet die a beggar. The lands of Blossholme Abbey, on which you hold a bond that will never be redeemed, are not yet in the King’s hands to give. A black storm is bursting in the north and, I say this in secret, the fury of it may sweep Henry from the throne. If it should be so, away with you to any land where you are not known, for then after this day’s work here a rope will be your only heritage. More, this Queen, unlike Anne who is gone, is a friend to the party of the Church, and though she affects to care little for such things, is bitter about that pearl, and therefore against you, its owner. Have you no jewel left that you could spare which I might take to her? As for the pearl itself, which Master Smith here swore to me was not to be found in the whole world when he showed me its fellow, it must be sold as the King commanded,” and he looked at Jacob somewhat sourly. Now Cicely spoke with Jacob, who went away and returned presently with a brooch in which was set a large white diamond surrounded by five small rubies. “Take her this with my duty, my Lord,” said Cicely. “I will, I will. Oh! fear not, it shall reach her for my own sake as well as yours. You are a wise giver, Lady Harflete, who know when and where to cast your bread upon the waters. And now I have a gift for you that perchance will please you more than gems. Your husband, Christopher Harflete, accompanied by a servant, has landed in the north safe and well.” “Oh, my Lord,” she cried, “then where is he now?” “Alas! the rest of the tale is not so pleasing, for as he journeyed, from Hull I think, he was taken prisoner by the rebels, who have him fast at Lincoln, wishing to make him, whose name is of account, one of their company. But he being a wise and loyal man, contrived to send a letter to the King’s captain in those parts, which has reached me this night. Here it is, do you know the writing?” “Aye, aye,” gasped Cicely, staring at the scrawl that was ill writ and worse spelt, for Christopher was no scholar. “Then I’ll read it to you, and afterwards certify a copy to multiply the evidence.” “To the Captain of the King’s Forces outside Lincoln.