his breast, he breathed over her. "A mitred abbey have I trampled down
for your love; yes, and to be bishop of a see. Therefore you must
come."

She fell to whining and entreaty, white to the lips and dry with fear.
All that she could say was, "I am bad. I am bad, but not so bad! Never
ruin me, Dom Galors." Then it was that she heard the voice of Prosper
singing afar off on the heath. Prosper sang--

"What if my metal
Be proved as high as a hawk's in good fettle!
Then you shall see
The world my fee, And the hearts of men for my Seigniory."

And the girl thought to herself, "Help cometh!" and changed the voice
of her grief and the beating of her heart. By this the guile a woman
has always by her tongue had play: she could talk more gently to her
gaoler, and beg a little time--a short hour or so--to plan and arrange
their affairs. He thought her won and grew very tender; he kissed her
hands many times, called her his dear heart, became, in a word, the
clumsy gallant he claimed to be. All this too she endured: she began
to gabble at random, sprightly as a minion, with all the shifts of a
girl in a strait place ready at command. Her fear was double now: she
must learn the trend of the singer and his horse, and prevent Galors
from hearing either. This much she did. The sound came steadily on.
She heard the horse's hoofs strike on a flint outside the quarry, she
heard Prosper, singing softly to himself. Her time had come. She
sprang at arm's-length from Galors and called out, "Help, for
charity!" with all her might.