Brother Geraint made his way through the dusk to Widow Greensleeve’s house at Cherry Acre. It was a warm, still night, and the scent¹ of the white thorn blossom in the hedges hung heavy on the air.  
He came to the gate and stood listening. There was no sound to be heard save the rush of the river through the sluices² of the mill.
 
Geraint pushed the gate open and peered about under the apple trees.
 
“Good evening to you, holy sir.”
 
Some one was laughing close to him in the dusk.
 
“Who’s there?”
 
“What, not know my voice?”
 
“It is you?”
 
“Come and see. Have you forgotten the seat by the hedge?”
 
He thrust the apple boughs³ aside, and saw the white kerchief that covered her shoulders.
 
“Where is the girl?”
 
“Saying her prayers somewhere. I have not seen her since noon. She is touched in the head, and goes wandering for hours together.”
 
Geraint sat down on the bench beside the dame⁴. He was in a sullen⁵ mood, and very bitter.
 
“The fool! Send her back to the moor⁶.”
 
“She swears she will not go.”
 
“This Martin Valliant is the devil. She could make nothing of him?”
 
“Why, my good man, it was he who made a Magdalene of her. She came back crying, ‘He is a saint. There is no man in Paradise fit to lace his shoes!’ ”
 
Geraint cursed under his breath.
 
“A pest take both of them!”
 
She rapped his shoulder sharply with her knuckles⁷.
 
“A word of warning, Dom Geraint. If the man is dangerous, the girl may prove more so. I tell you he has worked a miracle with her, and women are strange creatures. She says openly, ‘Some day Martin Valliant will come down from the moor, and make an end of the wickedness in Paradise.’ ”
 
“She says that!”
 
“Aye, and dreams of it. I tell you women are strange creatures when love has its way. She is all for turning anchoress, and praying all day to St. Martin. For half a cup of milk she would go running through the valley, screaming the truth. Be very careful, Dom Geraint.”
 
He leaned forward, glowering⁸ and biting his nails.
 
“We have made a poor throw, dame. And here is that pestilent pedant⁹ of an abbot threatening us with a visitation. We have heard of the storm he raised at Birchhanger; he trampled¹⁰ on the whole priory there, had one of the brothers hanged by the judge on circuit. Privilege of clergy¹¹, forsooth! The Church is to be regenerated¹²!”
 
He rocked to and fro.
 
“And this Martin Valliant, the very man to play the holy sneak¹³! A pretty pass indeed! A cub¹⁵ we took in and nurtured¹⁶!”
 
The woman touched his sleeve.
 
“Some men are too good for this world. They are so much in love with the next world——”
 
He laughed discordantly¹⁷.
 
“That they should be kicked into it! By my bones, there’s truth in that! It had entered my head, dame. And after all it is but doing a saint a service to help him to a halo.”
 
“Tsst—you are too noisy! Have a care.”
 
They drew closer together on the bench till their heads were nearly touching¹⁸.
 
“Kate is not about?”
 
“She’ll come back singing a litany. We shall hear her.”
 
Yet the girl was nearer than either of them dreamed. She had come wandering silently along the path soon after Geraint had entered the garden, and their voices had warned her. She was standing¹⁹ on the other side of the hedge within two yards of the bench, her hands clenched²⁰, her face white and sharp.
 
She could hear all that they said to each other, and it was sufficient to make her wise as to what was in Geraint’s heart. She realized how his brethren at Paradise hated Martin, and how they wished him out of the way.
 
Kate heard Geraint stirring at last. There were sounds from the other side of the hedge, sounds that made her wince²¹. She crept away, step by step, till a turn of the path hid her from view.
 
The gate shut with a clatter²². She heard the monk²³ give a great yawn, and then his heavy steps dying away beyond the orchard²⁴.
 
Kate stood very close to the hedge and shivered. Life had so changed for her; she was horrified²⁵ at things that she had hardly understood before; men seemed contemptible²⁶ creatures. She was thinking of what she had overheard, and of the treachery that threatened Martin Valliant.
 
Kate had kept her prom............