to burst into the convent and carry off the heiress, arranging that he himself, with some of his men-at-arms, should come upon them in the road, and make a feigned rescue of her, so that, if the lady superior laid her complaint before the pope’s legate he could deny that he had any hand in the matter, and could even take credit for having rescued her from the men who had profaned the convent.  That his story would be believed mattered but little.  It would be impossible to prove its falsity, and this was all that he cared for.

This course was followed out.  Late one evening the lady superior was alarmed by a violent knocking at the door.  In reply to questions asked through the grill, the answer was given, “We are men of the forest, and we are come to carry the Lady Margaret of Evesham off to a secure hiding-place.  The Lord of Evesham has discovered her whereabouts, and will be here shortly, and we would fain remove her before he arrives.”

“From whom have you warrant?” the lady superior said.  “I surrender her to no one, save to the lady abbess of St. Anne’s.  But if you have a written warrant from Sir Cuthbert, the rightful Lord of Evesham, I will lay the matter before the Lady Margaret, and will act as it may seem fit to her.”

“We have no time for parleying,” a rough voice said.  “Throw open the gate at once, or we will break it down.”

“Ye be no outlaws,” the lady superior said, “for the outlaws are men who fear God and respect the church.  Were ye what ye say, ye would be provided with the warrants that I mention.  I warn you, therefore, that if you use force, you will be excommunicated, and placed under the ban of the church.”

The only answer was a thundering assault upon the gate, which soon yielded to the blows.  The sisters and novices ran shrieking through the corridors at this rude uproar.  The lady superior, however, stood calmly awaiting the giving way of the gate.

“Where is the Lady Margaret?” the leader of the party, who were dressed in rough garb, and had the seeming of a band of outlaws, demanded.

“I will say nothing,” she said, “nor do I own that she is here.”

“We will soon take means to find out,” the man exclaimed.  “Unless in five minutes she is delivered to us, we will burn your place to the ground.”

The lady abbess was insensible to the threat; but the men rushing in, seized some sisters, who, terrified out of their wits by this irruption, at once gave the information demanded, and the men made their way to the cell where the Lady Margaret slept.

The girl had at once risen when the tumult commenced, doubting not in her mind that this was another attempt upon the part of her enemy to carry her off.  When, therefore, she heard heavy footsteps approaching along the gallery—­having already hastily attired herself—­she opened the door and presented herself.

“If you seek the Lady Margaret of Evesham,” she said calmly, “I am she.  Do not harm any of the sisters here.  I am in your power, and will go with you at once.  But I beseech you add not to your other sins that of violence against holy women.”