The King's Achievement. Robert Hugh Benson

than when I saw him last. My Lord of Canterbury did the crowning; Te Deum was sung after, and then solemn mass. There was a dozen abbots, I should think, and my Lords of York and London and Winchester with two or three more. My Lord of Suffolk bore the crown."

      "And the procession?" asked his father again.

      "That, too, was well enough. There came four chariots after the Queen, full of ancient old ladies, at which some of the folks laughed. And then the rest of them."

      They talked a few minutes about the coronation, Sir James asking most of the questions and Ralph answering shortly; and presently Christopher broke in—

      "And the Lady Katharine—" he began.

      "Hush, my son," said his father, glancing at Ralph, who sat perfectly still a moment before answering.

      "Chris is always eager about the wrong thing," he said evenly; "he is late at Begham, and then asks me about the Princess Dowager. She is still alive, if you mean that."

      Lady Torridon looked from one to the other.

      "And Master Cromwell?" she asked.

      "Master Cromwell is well enough. He asked me to give you both his respects. I left him at Hackney."

      * * * * *

      The tall southern windows of the hall, above the pargetted plaster, had faded through glowing ruby and blue to dusk before they rose from the table and went down and through the passage into the little parlour next the master's chamber, where they usually took their dessert. This part of the house had been lately re-built, but the old woodwork had been re-used, and the pale oak panels, each crowned by an elaborate foliated head, gave back the pleasant flicker of the fire that burned between the polished sheets of Flemish tiles on either side of the hearth. A great globe stood in the corner furthest from the door, with a map of England hanging above it. A piece of tapestry hung over the mantelpiece, representing Diana bending over Endymion, and two tall candles in brass stands burned beneath. The floor was covered with rushes.

      Mr. Carleton, who had come with them as far as the door, according to custom, was on the point of saying-good-night, when Sir James called him back.

      "Come in, father," he said, "we want you to-night. Chris has something to tell us."

      The priest came in and sat down with the others, his face in shadow, at the corner of the hearth.

      Sir James looked across at his younger son and nodded; and Chris, his chin on his hand, and sitting very upright on the long-backed settle beside the chaplain, began rather nervously and abruptly.

      "I—I have told Ralph," he said, "on the way here and you, sir; but I will tell you again. You know I was questioning whether I had a vocation to the religious life; and I went, with that in my mind, to see the Holy Maid. We saw her, Mr. Carleton and I; and—and I have made up my mind I must go."

      He stopped, hesitating a little, Ralph and his mother sat perfectly still, without a word or sign of either sympathy or disapproval. His father leaned forward a little, and smiled encouragingly.

      "Go on, my son."

      Chris drew a breath and leaned back more easily.

      "Well, we went to St. Sepulchre's; and she could not see us for a day or two. There were several others staying with us at the monastery; there was a Carthusian from Sheen—I forget his name."

      "Henry Man," put in the chaplain.

      "—And some others," went on Chris, "all waiting to see her. Dr. Bocking promised to tell us when we could see her; and he came to us one morning after mass, and told us that she was in ecstasy, and that we were to come at once. So we all went to the nuns' chapel, and there she was on her knees, with her arms across her breast."

      He stopped again. Ralph cleared his throat, crossed his legs, and drank a little wine.

      "Yes?" said the knight questioningly.

      "Well—she said a great deal," went on Chris hurriedly.

      "About the King?" put in his mother who was looking at the fire.

      "A little about the King," said Chris, "and about holy things as well. She spoke about heaven; it was wonderful to hear her; with her eyes burning, and such a voice; and then she spoke low and deep and told us about hell, and the devil and his torments; and I could hardly bear to listen; and she told us about shrift, and what it did for the soul; and the blessed sacrament. The Carthusian put a question or two to her, and she answered them: and all the while she was speaking her voice seemed to come from her body, and not from her mouth; and it was terrible to see her when she spoke of hell; her tongue lay out on her cheek, and her eyes grew little and afraid."

      "Her tongue in her cheek, did you say?" asked Ralph politely, without moving.

      Chris flushed, and sat back silent. His father glanced quickly from one to the other.

      "Tell us more, Chris," he said. "What did she say to you?"

      The young man leaned forward again.

      "I wish, Ralph—" he began.

      "I was asking—" began the other.

      "There, there," said Sir James. "Go on, Chris."

      "Well, after a while Dr. Bocking brought me forward; and told her to look at me; and her eyes seemed to see something beyond me; and I was afraid. But he told me to ask her, and I did. She said nothing for a while; and then she began to speak of a great church, as if she saw it; and she saw there was a tower in the middle, and chapels on either side, and tombs beside the high altar; and an image, and then she stopped, and cried out aloud 'Saint Pancras pray for us'—and then I knew."

      Chris was trembling violently with excitement as he turned to the priest for corroboration. Mr. Carleton nodded once or twice without speaking.

      "Then I knew," went on Chris. "You know it was what I had in my mind; and I had not spoken a word of Lewes, or of my thought of going there."

      "Had you told any?" asked his father.

      "Only Dr. Bocking. Then I asked her, was I to go there; but she said nothing for a while; and her eyes wandered about; and she began to speak of black monks going this way and that; and she spoke of a prior, and of his ring; it was of gold, she said, with figures engraved on it. You know the ring the Prior wears?" he added, looking eagerly at his father.

      Sir James nodded.

      "I know it," he said. "Well?"

      "Well, I asked her again, was I to go there; and then she looked at me up and down; I was in my travelling suit; but she said she saw my cowl and its hanging sleeves, and an antiphoner in my hands; and then her face grew dreadful and afraid again, and she cried out and fell forward; and Dr. Bocking led us out from the chapel."

      There was a long silence as Chris ended and leaned back again, taking up a bunch of raisins. Ralph sighed once as if wearied out, and his mother put her hand on his sleeve. Then at last Sir James spoke.

      "You have heard the story," he said, and then paused; but there was no answer. At last the chaplain spoke from his place.

      "It is all as Chris said," he began, "I was there and heard it. If the woman is not from God, she is one of Satan's own; and it is hard to think that Satan would tell us of the sacraments and bid us use them greedily, and if she is from God—" he stopped again.

      The knight nodded at him.

      "And you, sweetheart?" he said to his wife.

      She turned to him slowly.

      "You know what I think," she said. "If Chris believes it, he must go, I suppose."

      "And you, Ralph?"

      Ralph raised himself in his chair.

      "Do you wish me to say what I think?" he asked deliberately, "or what

       Chris wishes me to say? I will do either."