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"This is Master Nicholas Maxwell," explained the Archbishop, indicating him. "Master Torridon's son-in-law; and this, Mr. Herries " "And the priest?" asked the King. "The priest is Sir Christopher Torridon, living with his father at Overfield." "Ha! has he always lived there then?" "No, your Grace," said Cranmer smoothly, "he was a monk at Lewes until the dissolution of the house."
It was certain of course that by this time to-morrow at the latest they would have been expelled; and it was arranged that the two monks should ride back to Overfield, if they were personally unmolested, and remain there until further plans were decided upon.
Sir Nicholas had ridden after them and enquired their business, and had gathered that they were bound for the priory, and he then turned his horse and made off to Overfield.
Then he shut the door, and turned to his son. Chris had begun to laugh. It was a very strange household that Christmas at Overfield. Mary and her husband came over with their child, and the entire party, with the exception of the duellists themselves, settled down to watch the conflict between Lady Torridon and Beatrice Atherton.
The house that Ralph occupied in Westminster was in a street to the west of the Abbey, and stood back a little between its neighbours. It was a very small one, of only two rooms in width and one in depth, and three stories high; but it had been well furnished, chiefly with things brought up from Overfield Court, to which Ralph had taken a fancy, and which his father had not denied him.
Such incidents as this made life at Overfield very difficult for them all; it was hard for these sore hearts to be continually on the watch for dangerous subjects, and only to be able to comfort one another when the mistress of the house was absent; but above all it was difficult for Margaret.
I have very hearty sympathy with it." The old man's hand twitched uncontrollably on his chair-arm for a moment; he half lifted his hand, but he dropped it again. "Then as to Margaret," he went on in a moment. "I understand you had intended to dismiss her from the convent?" Ralph bowed. "And where do you suggest that she should go?" "She must go home," said Ralph. "To Overfield?" Ralph assented.
What, to be sure, was the dead or drunken body of an unknown vagabond to her? And it seems strange that I, who never exchanged speech with either the woman or the man, was the only one in the world who might recognize in the momentary contact of the living with the dead, a dramatic situation. The name by which he was indicated on the playbills was Overfield.
Her father began abruptly as she appeared. "He can do nothing," he said, "he can but turn her on to the road. And I do not think he will dare." "Ah! Beatrice Atherton?" questioned Mary, who had a clearer view of the situation now. "Yes Beatrice Atherton. He fears that we shall tell her. He cannot send Margaret to Overfield or Great Keynes now." "And if he turns her out after all?"
Mary knew that Chris was expected, and that Mr. Morris had ridden on to fetch him after he had called at Overfield, but from her short interview with Margaret she had seen that his presence would not be required.
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